Scry For You
by Regaime Seishi
Summary: Ed is stuck on the other side of the Gate, looking for a way home. En route to see a rocket scientist he is shoved into the world of Harry Potter. There he discovers scrying, a magical skill he comes to depend on. But will it be enough to save his world?
1. Amnesia Isn't Rocket Science

A/n- hello minne, hope you enjoy the fic. I make a promise to finish it by October, before the movie comes out or very soon after. I'm about 2/3 of the way through, or so I'd like to think if all these ideas would stop bombarding me. (smiles) anyway…I don't own hp or fma, just the story.( snuggles story) I had fun writing this.

Scry For You

Regaime Seishi

Ch. 1- Amnesia Isn't Rocket Science

Edward Elric picked his way through the crowd at King's Cross station, scouting the signs hanging from the ceiling for Platform 10. He was nervous, and every time a passerby in a hurry shouldered into him, his stomach jolted and rolled over. For three days now he'd been on and off trains, moving from city to city in order to reach his destination, London. Now that he was there it was only a half an hour ride or so to the man he was putting all his hope into: a rocket scientist named Robert Goddard. Somehow he had to find his way to the other side of the Gate, and he believed the best way to do so was to travel in space where there was ether and countless other mysteries. The only way to get to space was to convince Goddard to let him help develop the man's rocket, and there was still the uncertainty of whether or not he'd be rejected as an apprentice like the first scientist he'd visited, Herman Oberth.

The thought of this caused his throat to contract; he wouldn't be able to bear it if that happened. His life since he found himself on this side of the Gate had been filled with anxiety derived from worrying about his little brother and only by directing his thoughts toward finding a way back to Amestris, behind the Gate, and back to Alphonse and his friends, lessened it. With this at the forefront of his mind, he pushed through the crowds, making only inches of progress. He was about half way there and stopped to take refuge behind a pillar when a cart overflowing with luggage obstructed his way and plummeted into him. He was thrown backwards onto the marble floor and quickly lost consciousness on impact.

The first thing he saw when his eyes opened was a pair of faces looming in front of him. Both were covered in thousands of freckles and thick, red-orange hair.

"Are you okay, mate?" the faces asked.

"No," Edward grunted, "I'm seeing double." He sat up and rubbed his eyes to clear his vision. When he opened them again he expected there to be one face, but the two remained. "Shit," he mumbled, the word slurring on his tongue so that it sounded more like a sigh than a curse.

"Don't worry, mate, you're not hallucinating," one said.

"We're identical twins is all," the other finished.

"Well…that explains it," Ed grumbled, "Excuse me, but I have to catch my train."

He pushed himself to his feet and the ground blurred before him. He lost balance and nearly fell over, if not for the twins catching him by the arms and steadying him.

"We're sorry for ramming you," the twin on his right said.

"We were in a hurry," his brother finished.

"Everyone in this damn country is in a hurry," Ed replied bitterly as he placed a hand on his throbbing head to stop his world from spinning, "Including me; I have a train to catch."

"We'll help you aboard," the right twin said.

"It's the least we can do. Where's your stuff?" the left twin asked. Ed pointed to the meager suitcase a few feet in front of him.

"Neat, must've put a condensing charm on it," the right one said.

"What?" Edward blurted out, looking at the twin in confusion. _'Condensing charm? What the hell?' _he thought.

"No worries mate," explained the other, "It'll all come back to you in a sec."

However, the confusion stayed and Ed wondered if this was truly his train. _'It must be,'_ he reasoned, _'I was almost to Platform 10 when I was knocked out.'_

The twins introduced themselves as Fred and George Weasley and Edward returned it with his name. The two then took it upon themselves to chaperone Ed due to his condition. They escorted him onto the train and into an empty compartment. Edward collapsed into his seat and leaned his aching head against the cool glass of the window to lessen the pain. He needed peace and quiet in order to sleep off his wound so he could spend the tail end of the trip organizing his thoughts on what he'd say to Robert Goddard. He had just dozed off when he found himself being shaken awake.

"Hey, it's not good to sleep if you're suffering from a possible concussion," a girl with bushy brown hair was telling him. Edward yawned and rubbed his head, annoyance spreading across his grim face as the girl continued.

"Fred and George explained what happened. I'm Hermione and this is Ron and Harry." She motioned toward another red head and a boy with messy black hair. "We'll take you to Madame Pomfrey as soon as we get to Hogwarts to see if you're okay. In the meantime, try to stay awake; if you're suffering from a concussion you could go into a coma. What's your name and house? What year are you in?" she rambled.

"You talk too much," Edward pointed out with a frown. His head throbbed from the noise so he massaged it again, turning to find the two boys Hermione had introduced shaking in hysterics.

"Hermione, you talk too much!" the red head exclaimed in between a guffaw.

"Oh, shut up Ron!" the girl snapped at him.

"Shut up the both of you!" Edward barked, still in discomfort, "It feels as if my brain's about to fall out…"

"Sorry, I was merely trying to keep you awake," Hermione apologized in a whisper, "So…what's your name?"

'_At least she's considerate,'_ Ed thought before he replied, "Edward Elric."

"Which house are you in?" she inquired further.

"Excuse me?" Ed asked in confusion.

"He's still getting over temporary amnesia," one of the twins said, "it'll pass."

"I beg your pardon, but I do _not_ have amnesia. I can recall everything that ever happened in my life," Ed explained in annoyance, "What I don't _understand_ is who 'Madame Pomfrey' is, what a 'house' and 'year' is, and what in hell _'Hogwarts'_ is. Other than that, I'm quite peachy; my head hurts and I _think_ I'm on the wrong train."

"It's okay to be confused mate, your memory will return," the other twin responded.

"My memory is _fine_!" Edward repeated in anger this time, "I'm on my way to study rocket science with Robert Goddard!"

The twins broke out into laughter, exclaiming it was "a great joke" and that Edward did "a perfect impression of a muggle". Ed sat in confusion, wondering just _who_ these _idiots_ were until the black-haired boy interrupted their amusement.

"Erm, guys, I don't think he's joking," he said hesitantly. The laughter halted immediately.

"Bloody hell! You mean you really _are_ a muggle?" Ron exclaimed.

"A what?" Ed blurted, confused yet again.

"Non-magic folk," Hermione explained, "People without the gift of magic." Edward looked at the company in front of him dumbfounded.

"M-magic? Are you _crazy_? Magic doesn't _exist_!" he stuttered.

"Shit, he _is_ a muggle," either Fred or George swore.

"Then what were you doing in front of the barrier to platform 9 and ¾?" the other twin asked. Both threw their hands up in exasperation and broke into a stream of colorful words.

"Look," Hermione said, "It may be hard to understand, but right now you're on a train to a magical school of witchcraft and wizardry called Hogwarts. As soon as we get there we'll bring you to the Headmaster; he'll know what to do." Edward shook his head and his blond hair fell into his golden eyes.

"No way," he said, feeling numb, "I won't believe it. If magic exists then why isn't there any record of it? Why can't I—why can't I open—" He broke off as his throat contracted and he felt tears well up in his eyes. He turned toward the window to hide this shame, yet faced them again a moment later despite it, his voice loud and accusing. "It doesn't make sense! What about the laws of physics? The laws of_—_! I _won't_ believe it!"

"Hey, hey, calm down!" Ron said tentatively, "I don't mean to be insensitive, but aren't you overreacting?"

Edward shot him a glare that silenced him and turned back to the window, ignoring the others. The line, _'I won't believe it'_, repeated in his mind as a single tear escaped down his face as he remembered all the times him and his brother were destroyed by equivalent exchange. He wiped it away quickly in frustration, just in time to witness the door opening to allow two thugs who reminded him of Gluttony and a sneering blond in.

"Word on the train says Harry Potty has a new pet muggle," the sneering one jeered. His cronies laughed dumbly at this.

"Malfoy, you slime ball! Can't you find better things to do than being an eavesdropping _snake_!" Hermione yelled.

"I'm sorry, is the stupid muggle yours, mud-blood?" Malfoy derided.

One moment the boy was laughing and the next he was doubled up on the floor with Ed looming above him, fist raised. He lowered it and spoke.

"I don't much appreciate being insulted and treated like a _dog_," he said, eyes narrow and piercing, "But I _am_ glad you volunteered to be the outlet for my anger."

"Why you—" Malfoy seethed through gritted teeth as he scrambled to his feet and fumbled for a wooden rod in his pocket. He pointed it at Ed, but before he could say anything, a shout echoed behind him.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!_"

Edward turned to see Harry standing with his arm raised, his own wooden rod in his hand. He turned back to Malfoy and found him once again on his back, the wooden rod strewn across the compartment. The boy gained his feet and retrieved his stick as the two thugs stepped in front of him as a shield. As they rushed at him, Ed prepared himself for a fight by focusing his strength.

It wasn't hard, as both goons moved like frozen lard, and he was easily able to catch one in the solar plexus with a right uppercut and the second in the knee with a left wheel kick. The two whimpered in agony and retreated from the compartment, finding their leader long gone. Edward made his way to his seat and sank into it, rotating his arm to see if the prosthetic limb was damaged; fortunately it wasn't.

"That was brilliant!" Ron exclaimed, taking a seat next to his newest idol, "Where'd you learn to do that!"

"I had a teacher," Ed replied nonchalantly.

"Wow, I bet he could really kick ass," Ron continued, "You really showed Malfoy how to do it old-school."

"She, Teacher was a she," Edward corrected.

"Blimy! Wait 'til word gets out that Malfoy was beaten by a muggle who was trained by a _girl_! This is gonna be _great_!"

"Ron, you're so sexist!" Hermione scolded, "Just because she's a woman doesn't make any difference. It was _Edward_ who beat up Malfoy and his goons."

"Right," Harry agreed, "You know, I think he beat your record, Hermione." Hermione flushed as she remembered her last conflict with Malfoy.

"You know what was the best though?" Ron snickered, "That time when Mad-Eye Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret and controlled him with the Imperius Curse!"

"That was _illegal_! He should have gotten _fired_!" Hermione exclaimed in disgust.

"Yah, but it wasn't really Moody," Harry reminded her.

Everyone except Edward nodded and the room went silent as they were absorbed in their thoughts. The young alchemist muttered something along the lines of "bullshit" under his breath. Just then the door to the compartment opened and a plump witch with a cart overflowing with candy and pastries entered. The twins, Ron, Harry, and Hermione rushed to pull out their money and began counting odd silver, bronze, and gold coins for the treats. By the time the cart left, much of its contents had been relocated to a pile on one of the empty seats.

"Here," Harry said, offering a colorful package to Ed, "You must be starving."

Ed took it gratefully and read the label: 'Chocolate Frog'. It didn't look harmful, and besides that he didn't think Harry would've given it to him if it had been, so he opened it. He never expected the contents to burst out and start hopping around the compartment. Edward sat in a daze as he watched Harry and Ron take off after the chocolate frog. At this point Ed doubted it was actually chocolate. Finally, the thing slowed down and Fred, or maybe it was George, caught it and handed it back to him.

Edward took the brown mass, which was now barely discernable as a frog, in his thumb and forefinger, contemplating it. His stomach growled as he caught a whiff of its sweetness, but he ignored this and chucked the frog out the window.

"Do you have anything…_normal_?" he asked awkwardly.

"I have some sandwiches my mum made me," Ron offered, and soon Ed was consuming a couple of squished slabs of bread with peanut butter and jelly stuffed into the middle. It was a bit dry, but since it didn't move, Ed was satisfied. The fact he'd spent a month of his childhood eating fish and mushrooms on a deserted island helped as well.


	2. The Sorting and the Feast

A/n- soo….how was the first ch? Please reply, it's the least you can do to keep this author from spazzing out. Cuz I tend to do that…think of it as equivalent exchange, hai?

Ch. 2- The Sorting and The Feast

The train stopped a couple hours later and everyone got off. Edward nearly jumped his height when he saw the horrendous creatures bridled and tied in front of the carriages, waiting to carry the students to the castle.

"What the hell _are_ those things?" he exclaimed, his mind immediately labeling them as chimeras.

"What?" Hermione, Ron, and the twins asked in unison.

"He means the thestrals," Harry explained further, "Only people who have seen death can see them. They look horrible, but they won't bother you."

If Edward had been any other person, he may have passed out by now, but with homunculi and the Philosopher's Stone, it didn't take more reassurance for him to get in a carriage. However he did vow to leave this place—this _world_—as soon as possible. He needed to get to Robert Goddard, or, in the least, send him an apology for his tardiness. Not that he had any idea how he was going to explain himself. He couldn't very well say he got carried onto a magical train and ended up in a school for young witches and wizards.

"I was wondering about something," a voice on his left said, taking him out of his reverie; it was Harry.

"Yeah?" Ed prompted.

"Who did you see die? I know it isn't right to meddle, but…" Harry shifted uneasily and fidgeted a little.

"Too many," Ed replied, harsher than he intended, but effectively cutting off the conversation.

"I can understand, mate," Harry said.

Edward Elric, once the Fullmetal Alchemist, looked out the window and past the weird horses to the castle looming ahead of them. It had turrets and towers and a lake; a typical castle, only Ed knew it wasn't. Supposedly it was magic, although he still didn't believe in that. However, from what he had seen recently, he could feel his scientific mind caving as a quote from somewhere returned: _'seeing is believing'_. So maybe he _did_ believe in magic, but he'd never trust it. How could he trust something that had no _rules_?

The carriage stopped and everyone climbed down, making his or her way to the castle. Edward felt his stomach rising and clutched the handle on his suitcase tighter; the castle was intimidating up close, and not knowing what it held inside was even more so.

A monster of a man was yelling something about 'first years' and ushering students into the front doors. Everyone wore black robes except for Ed, making his brown coat and pants stick out like a sore thumb. The man spotted him and his dust broom eyebrows shot up in surprise. Harry and the others pulled Ed toward the man, who seemed even bigger up close. Edward was grateful to have grown a few inches in the last few weeks.

"'arry 'n Ron 'n 'ermione 'n th' Weasley twins!" the man boomed, "I should've known th' oddball was wih' ye troublemakers! Wha' 'appened? 'E looks like a bloody muggle!"

"He is…"Harry mumbled, "There was a mix up and the twins thought he was a wizard."

"Could've happened to anyone," they shrugged.

"Erm, nice to see you Hagrid," Ron said awkwardly.

"Hunh," Hagrid grunted, "Foller me. I'm a'takin' ya ter Dumbledore. 'E'll know wha' ter do."

Minutes later Edward found himself in a small room, waiting to talk to the mysterious Headmaster. At the moment, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were telling their part of the story, the twins having already contributed theirs and left, and now Ed was standing, staring at a fantastical flaming bird. For some reason it reminded him of Roy.

A few minutes passed before the threesome exited and a silver-haired man in flowing midnight-blue robes, embroidered with golden stars, motioned Edward in. He was wearing a hat that matched his robes and half-moon spectacles that made him look wiser than his already many years. The man introduced himself as Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and offered Ed a chair. After the alchemist exchanged his name, the wizard nodded and began pacing the room.

"This has never happened in the history of magic, so I'm not quite sure as to what to do. Platform nine-and-three-quarters doesn't open for regular people; only those with magical ability can pass through the barrier. Therefore you must hold talent. I see no other way than to enroll you as a student for the time being. You cannot leave here until I get further word from the Ministry of Magic anyway, as they will no doubt make a larger fuss about this than is actually necessary. Mr. Potter, Misters Weasley and Miss Granger told me you were on your way to see one, Robert Goddard, am I right?"

"I was going to study rocket science," Ed replied downcast.

"So you're a scientist, but obviously not a normal one if you could enter the Wizarding World," Dumbledore concluded, his blue eyes smiling yet piercing into the other's golden orbs for an explanation.

Edward hesitated, and then his security walls caved. The reasonable voice in his mind told him these people might be able to help him reach his goal much faster than rocket science. Supposedly _anything_ was possible with magic, right?

"I'm an alchemist," Edward told him, then continuing with the immensely brief version of his story, "I was separated from my world and my brother, and now I'm trying to find a way home."

"Intriguing," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes glinting in interest, "I've always believed in another dimension, yet I've never been able to prove it. What I don't understand is why you haven't returned with your alchemy yet."

"It doesn't work here," Edward said.

"Ah," the old mage replied, "that would make sense. In that case we'll have to arrange for you to get supplies. I'll create a Portkey first thing in the morning for us to go to Diagon Alley. You'll need books, robes, potion materials, a wand, caldron, and this and that. Right now we'd best go down to the Great Hall. I assume the rest of the school is anxious to start the sorting. You'll need to be sorted as well. You're about 15, am I right?"

"17," Ed corrected with a twinge of anger.

"Well, technically you're a grown wizard, yet we both know that's not true. I'd say you could pass as a fifth year. I'm sure you can get help starting out; I'll make a point to tell your teachers to give you some slack. Now then, come along; on to the Great Hall."

"Hold on!" Ed blurted, his head swimming with everything Dumbledore said, "I thought I was merely _masquerading_ as a student. I didn't expect to actually learn _magic_!"

"You may find it to be helpful to get home," the Headmaster replied calmly, "More so than rocket science."

Ed shrugged and followed him to the Great Hall where all the students and teachers, minus the first years, himself, and Dumbledore were seated. _'What the hell,'_ he thought, _'I've seen it all now anyway.'_

Dumbledore got behind the table at the head of the hall where the other teachers sat, and introduced Edward as a new student. He then ushered Ed into the line of first years who anxiously awaited their doom. As one explained to him, supposedly you had to take a test in front of the entire school. Edward gulped; what would he do if he had to perform magic? He didn't know the first thing to it; didn't Dumbledore realize that?

The hall grew quiet as a slender witch placed a rugged hat on a stool in front of the line of first years. As she was walking away, the hat broke out into song.

_Welcome, welcome, young and old,_

_Another year is due to unfold._

_The sorting hat, that is my name,_

_I'm not a joke and not a game._

_My purpose is to poke and pick,_

_Inside your head, it's not a trick._

_I'm here to see where you belong,_

_And explain the houses with my song._

_If your courage knows no bounds, _

_Gryffindor's where you'll be found._

_Ravenclaw's for those with brains,_

_Slytherin for those wanting gain._

_Hufflepuff for the true of heart,_

_And now I believe it's time to start._

_Before that I desperately need to prepare,_

_All of you for what to beware._

_An evil brews deep in hiding,_

_This is but a mere reminding:_

_Study hard and study true,_

_The Dark Lord just might come for you!_

Silence issued for a minute as the hall pondered the sorting hat's warning. The witch from before looked shocked and took a moment to collect her thoughts; even Dumbledore seemed troubled. Then the witch began to call names to the stool. The student brought forth would put on the hat, sit on the stool, and wait nervously for the hat to shout out one of the four houses. Relieved from their burden, they would then rush to their new house's designated table and sit down beaming. Edward shifted uneasily as the D's ended and his name approached.

"Elric, Edward." In his mind, Ed said some colorful words on the way to the stool.

The hall was unusually quiet for the new student. Usually there'd be a few whispers between gossipers as the newbies were sorted, but even they were silent as Edward slipped the rugged hat over his ears.

'_Who have we here?'_ asked a voice in Ed's mind, _'Immense knowledge do I see; perfect for Ravenclaw, and a want for power and accomplishment that only Slytherins hold. However, I also see a great sense of courage and love as well, especially for your younger brother. You and him have gone through a lot of hardships and heartaches: a lot of death.'_

'_Stop digging into my past!'_ Ed demanded, _'I'm not here by choice!'_

'_So you're a scientist then—no, no, an alchemist! Fancy meeting one of your kind in my dying days! You're searching for something, right? A way home, but you don't believe magic can help you, do you?'_

'_It doesn't follow equivalent exchange,' _Ed thought in disgust, _'Quit being nosy and place me somewhere before I leave and choose myself!'_

'_Arrogance and ignorance; perfect for Slytherin. Yet they won't teach you what you need to know. You need to learn to trust magic, so I see no other than—'_

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat bellowed.

Edward ripped it off his head in anger and strode to the correct table with the same emotion on his face. However, this dissolved as he realized the twins, Ron, Hermione, and Harry were cheering their lungs out for him, as well as every girl at the table. The Slytherins on the other hand, especially Malfoy and his gluttons, were booing with as much enthusiasm. Edward ignored this and sat down, unable to help the smile that lightened on his face.

The sorting ended after another half-hour and both the hat and the stool were whisked away to where they'd sit in lonesome for another year, thinking up a new song to sing.

Dumbledore then stood and welcomed the new class, going over the rules and regulations of the school. Edward zoned out as he talked, not being one to follow the rules anyway. To him it seemed, if he got expelled finding a way home, it wouldn't matter either way.

When the Headmaster finished, the hall buzzed with anticipation for the opening feast. Ed's stomach felt like a vacuum sucking at his innards and glanced around anxiously for waiters with carts. Imagine his surprise when the food popped out of nowhere and suddenly appeared on the table!

At first he contemplated not trusting the food enough to eat it because he didn't believe it really existed. He immediately decided against this as the aromas of the dishes made him lightheaded and he dove into the meal, trying anything and everything he could get his hands on.

When the major consuming dissipated, Edward tuned into the conversations around him. Most of the topics were completely foreign to him, but he did catch a few about the sorting hat's warning.

'_A Dark Lord, huh?' _he thought, _'I wonder who he is.'_

"So, Ed," Ron said quite suddenly, in between a mouthful of chicken, "Is it true you come from a different world?" Ed looked at the red-haired boy in alarm.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed, then apologizing, "Sorry Ed, we're naturally curious."

"Yeah," Ron said, "Curious and sucked into every big, bloody event that goes on in this school all thanks to the walking disaster." He raised his cup of pumpkin juice in the air. "Cheers Harry."

"I'm not a walking disaster!" Harry insisted.

"He's not a walking disaster!" Hermione said at nearly the same time, "He's just…pulled into things; it's not _his_ fault you-know-who attacked _him_ and just _happened_ to fail. It could've been anyone—it could've been you."

"Sure," Ron said, "I'll believe that when we get through this year without Harry _somehow_ escaping from you-know-who _again_ and saving this bloody world _again_ because of it."

"I never saved the world," Harry said, sounding annoyed, "When have I ever saved the world? I just lived is all—that's all I am—'the boy who lived'. The only reason Voldemort's after me is because I make him look like an idiot."

"Are you kidding me, mate?" Ron exclaimed, "You're not giving yourself enough credit! What about that episode with the Basilisk? Okay, so you saved the _school_, but it's basically a small _world_. And then the Triwizard Tournament what with seeing you-know-who's return to power and being able to identify the Deatheaters? That saved _tons_ of us! And then in the first year with the Philosopher's Stone—"

"What?" Ed blurted, nearly choking on his mouthful of food, "There's a Philosopher's Stone here!"

"You've heard of it before?" Hermione asked.

"I have…" Edward replied awkwardly, not meaning to have caused such an outburst. His mind bubbled with excitement though; if he could find the Philosopher's Stone, he might be able to get home!

"What was so surprising then?" Harry asked.

"It's just that…well, you said you came across it, right?" Ed asked, pulling the question from deep inside his genius brain to cover up, "I think that's pretty amazing."

"Yeah, I guess," Ron said, "Although I never saw it—Harry's the one who found it."

"I found it by accident," Harry corrected.

"So what happened to it?" Ed asked disinterestedly, as if he didn't care.

"The guy who made it, Nicolas Flamel, destroyed it," Hermione supplied.

"Oh…" Ed replied wistfully, looking down at his plate. An awkward silence followed until the food disappeared suddenly and Ed nearly dropped the pastry he was eating in the surprise.

"Don't worry," Harry laughed, "You'll get used to it." However, Edward wasn't so sure.

The tables emptied now as students dragged their tired bodies up stairwells and through corridors to their dorms. Ed followed his new friends and the rest of his house to the Gryffindor portal, which consisted of an unsightly portrait of a chunky woman in a pink dress. A higher classman called out the password, 'drazzling drizzles', and the portrait swung open on invisible hinges. Again, Ed was speechless at the sight; it seemed the entire castle and everything in it went against equivalent exchange.

Edward felt as if his head would explode with all the new things he's witnessed when he sank onto the bed that had his name embroidered in the upholstery and pillow. He took a small notebook and pen from his suitcase, which had somehow migrated from Dumbledore's office to the dorm, and drew the curtains around his four-poster bed. The notebook served as his journal; he'd write down his memories, thoughts, theories, or the happenings of the day. Most of the entries were addressed to his little brother. He hoped that someday he'd be able to return home and share the journal with Alphonse, or if he could not, that someone would find it and figure out a way to send it beyond the Gate. Inside on the back of the front cover was a letter written to whoever should find it, explaining his desires. Perhaps it was a hollow hope, but it was one Edward still held onto.

He completed this daily ritual and placed the two items back in his suitcase, locking it tight from any wandering eyes, and placed it at the foot of the bed. He then drew the curtains again and undressed, taking everything except his boxers off and crawling under the covers. It was a warm night, but just in case anyone opened the bed hangings, he pulled the sheets up and over his prosthetic arm and fell asleep.


	3. Equivalent Exchange

Ch. 3- Equivalent Exchange

The next morning came quickly and Ed was wakened by the upholstery being pulled back from the bed. Edward panicked and scrambled to pull the covers over his limbs that had wiggled their way out during the night before the intruder saw them. Harry's head poked in and informed him that Dumbledore expected him outside his office after breakfast.

"Is something the matter?" Harry asked, noticing Ed's concealing position.

"No, I'm just cold is all," Ed fibbed.

"But it's near 80 degrees outside," Harry said in confusion.

"Yeah, weird isn't it?" Ed replied with a tight smile.

Harry shrugged and left to wherever he was headed and Edward breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly retrieved some clothes and dressed, slipping on his white gloves, as was his habit.

He trudged down staircase after staircase to the Great Hall, following his vague memory from the night before. He _thought _he'd been going the right way, until he came to a stop in front of a missing staircase. He could've _sworn_ it was there last night, though everything looked different in the morning radiance. He cursed the castle and retraced his steps, this time taking a different route. He followed a couple corridors, went up and down a few staircases, and found himself completely lost. He was somewhere on either the second or third floor; hell, it could be the fourth. After an added ten minutes of walking he was in another unfamiliar hallway and royally pissed off.

"Son of a bitch! I need a fucking _map_ for this place!" he yelled, feeling better after venting his anger. To his surprise, a door appeared on his right out of nowhere. Edward stopped short and gaped at it, his curiosity took hold, and he opened the portal.

Inside was a single desk with a piece of parchment placed on its surface. It was rolled up and tied shut, but it looked so inviting just sitting there that Ed had to open it. Low and behold, it was a map of the entire school, including what looked to be secret entrances and corridors. Edward looked more closely at the map and read the labels of different rooms: Library, Great Hall, Divination Tower. There was also a small 'x' inside a box labeled, 'Room of Requirement'. Ed shrugged and decided it was best not to question his luck, instead taking the map and tapping his finger on the box labeled 'Great Hall', contemplating the best way to get there. A dotted line appeared that connected the 'x' with his destination, thoroughly amazing him. Again, he didn't question the magic and followed the dotted line to the Great Hall.

He made it there in less than ten minutes, finding his table and sitting down heavily in a seat, the map tucked away in his pocket for safekeeping. By this time most of the students, including Harry, Ron, and Hermione, had already ate and gone to class. Ed ate his breakfast quickly but heartily, and then used his map to find the entrance to Dumbledore's office. The wizard exited a magically appearing door as soon as Edward knocked on the solid wall that had been there previously. He was carrying an old lantern in one hand and a list in the other. He gave the list to Ed to hold onto and motioned for him to follow.

"The safe guards surrounding this castle won't allow us to use any sort of transporting magic like this Portkey, so unfortunately we must leave the grounds for it to work," Dumbledore explained. Edward nodded in spite of himself; he had no idea what the wizard was talking about.

When they were off the grounds Dumbledore glanced at an odd looking watch that only he seemed to know how to read and bade Ed to grab the lantern quickly. Edward did so, although he didn't see the point until he felt his shoes lift off the ground. His stomach flopped over and he tried to release the Portkey, only to find that he physically couldn't. Finally, after seriously believing he was going to discard the breakfast he'd eaten, Ed's feet touched down again, this time on a cobbled street in place of grass.

"Where are we?" he asked, looking around at the various shops with names that sounded like gibberish to him.

"Diagon Alley," Dumbledore informed him, "We must hurry and purchase your supplies; we have a meeting with the Minister of Magic at midday."

Edward followed the headmaster yet again, this time in and out of different shops where the necessary school supplies were bought for him. After they left the third shop with a large caldron brimming with potion ingredients, Ed having witnessed the large amount of wizard money Dumbledore had handed over on his behalf, he felt guilty.

"Uh, sir?" he asked hesitantly, gaining the headmaster's attention, "Is there some way I can pay you back for all this? I have money…just not your kind."

"Don't worry about the funds; they came from the Ministry of Magic. I explained your situation to them and they've provided you with a fair amount to get by," Dumbledore explained.

"But—it's not equivalent exchange," Ed protested. Dumbledore smiled warmly at the adult-like teenage boy in front of him.

"Your principle is honorable, however magic does not require equivalence," he replied. Edward sighed deeply in defeat as he trailed after the old man to the next store.

This time they entered a robe shop where a plump witch took Edward's measurements and told them when to return by. They then walked next door to Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands while the robes were being adjusted.

The interior of the shop was mostly shelves that ran wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling, and row-after-row. The air was musty and carried the scent of pine, hemlock, and cedar wood. A lanky old man with shining white hair introduced himself and looked Edward over. He then disappeared behind a row of shelves and came back with a thin cardboard box, out of which he took a wand.

"Here you go," Ollivander said, handing the wooden rod to Ed, "Give it a swish. That's 15 inch cherry wood with a unicorn hair core." Edward did what was asked of him but nothing happened.

"Hmn…I can tell right now you're going to be a difficult one, to be sure, but no worries, I'll find you a wand!"

Fifty tries later Ollivander regretted these words. However he continued to tear apart his store looking for the perfect wand.

"I don't understand it!" he huffed as the hundredth wand still had no effect, "I've only seen this in squibs, yet Dumbledore _insisted_ you had magical abilities in his letter!" Dumbledore nodded to confirm this. "This leaves me no choice then; I'll have to pull out the more powerful wands," he said, disappearing yet again.

This time he returned with ten or so boxes with substantial amounts of dust covering them in his arms. He took out the first and handed it to Ed.

"10 inch hemlock with a phoenix feather core," droned Ollivander. The young alchemist sighed and swished, again gaining no response. The wand keeper snatched it from him and immediately replaced it with another.

"13.5 oak, centaur tail's core."

"14 inch weeping willow, mermaid scales."

"9 inch dogwood, Niffler fur."

"11 inch cedar, dragon skin." Again, no reaction, and the same occurred for the next boxes until only one was left.

"If this won't do it then you truly _are_ a squib. Concentrate now and give it a good, hard, flick. This is 12 inch mahogany with a sphinx core; very good for divination. It's probably the most powerful wand I've made."

Edward took the wand in his left hand and immediately felt a difference, sort of a strange tingling sensation creeping up his arm. He flicked it and silver sparks appeared out of the end, arranging themselves to form the face of a dirty blond, ten-year-old boy. Ed sucked in his breath as the vision of Al ran across a lush green yard to the interior of Aunt Pinako's house. The aspect that confused him was that Winry was there as well, looking _exactly_ as she had the last time he saw her, and Alphonse looked only _half_ her age. The image faded after a minute and Edward called out to the vision, the wand, _anything_.

"Wait! Show me more!" The wand didn't respond.

Ollivander was too delighted to have found a wand for Ed to notice the distressed face of his customer. He packaged the wand case, Dumbledore paid for it, giving Ollivander an extra tip for his trouble, and they exited, now returning to the robe shop for pickup.

"If I may ask," Dumbledore inquired once he'd paid for the robes as well and they left for yet another shop, "was that by chance your brother?"

"Yes, but…the last time I saw him he looked…_different_," Ed replied, seeming troubled. Dumbledore looked at him expecting a better explanation. "It's complicated," he added hesitantly. Dumbledore nodded and dropped the matter due to the fact they'd presently entered a pet store.

"So," he asked jovially, "What sort of magical companion would you prefer? It can be a rat, owl, cat, or toad, although I recommend owls; they're incredibly intelligent.

"This is required?" Ed questioned in disbelief.

"Well, no, but it might as well be since every student ends up with _some_ sort of magical creature," Dumbledore explained. Ed gave him a look that clearly said, _'It's not equivalent exchange'_.

"I'll tell you what," the headmaster offered, "I'll pay for your animal out of my own purse, but in exchange you must tell me this complicated story of yours—only when you're ready, that is, although I expect it before you leave Hogwarts."

Reluctantly, Ed agreed, his eyes having already fallen on a short-haired, gray kitten, which had instantly reminded him of his brother. The vision from before returned and filled him with emotion, therefore making up his mind. Edward scratched its ears and smiled sadly.

"It had better be a good story," Dumbledore jested after looking at the price tag. Ed shrugged sheepishly. The small creature was paid for and now Edward cradled it in his arms, memories swirling through his mind.

"What are you going to name him?" Dumbledore asked, his ancient face turned upwards in a smile.

"I was thinking of calling him Alphonse," Ed replied, smiling as well, "Somehow it seems fitting; my brother always loved cats. Whenever he came across a stray on our travels he'd pick it up, no matter how many times I told him we couldn't give it a home." Ed shook his head and chuckled, lifting his new friend above his head in order to look it in the eyes. "I'll give you a good home," he promised, now serious. The cat purred and mewed softly in response, content to be loved.

"Come along," Dumbledore bade him, "The Minister of Magic is waiting."

The two wound their way along the street and past the stores Ed now knew a little about. The crowds had grown and Edward nearly lost sight of the headmaster, if not for his eccentric robes. He himself now had his own set, however he refused to wear the ridiculous billowing things until he absolutely had to. Finally they took shelter in a small pub called the 'Leaky Cauldron'. There, a plump, grey-haired man in black and gold robes stood and waved the pair over, seeming anxious and short on time. The two wizards shook hands and Dumbledore introduced Ed.

"Cornelius Fudge," the man greeted, extending a hand, "Minister of Magic." Edward shook the limb with his left hand, receiving an odd look.

"Nice to meet you, sir," he said, remembering his manners for those with political power, however much he detested them.

"Yes, yes, very nice," Fudge chirped nervously, "I've heard much about you—or your dilemma, so to say—and I apologize greatly if you've been inconvenienced. I swear this has _never_ happened in the _history_ of magic, however I suppose all is not lost. You do have magical prowess, don't you?" he inquired.

"Yes," Ed replied, however reluctant to admit it; the reaction he received from his wand could not have been anything _but_ magic.

"Good! That is good. I'd hate to have erased your memory and by chance send you back into the muggle world as a vegetable. Memory spells can be tricky at times, yes…"

Fudge trailed off as his mind wandered to other matters. Ed was becoming annoyed with this one's short attention span and voiced a question in order to capture it once more.

"When will I be able to leave?" Cornelius looked taken aback.

"I thought it was clear you were to remain at Hogwarts," he replied, almost threateningly, "If you were to return to the muggle world we would have to erase your memory—I _hate_ to admit this, but there's a 25 percent chance it'll go awry and you'll turn into a babbling moron…"

"I understand, sir," Ed responded, noting his short-ranged choices. _'Ah well'_, he thought, _'Equivalent exchange—Fudge'll see his own end of this eventually.'_

"Now then, since everything has been taken care of, I bid you both an _excellent_ year at Hogwarts. I apologize for being in a rush, but with he-who-must-not-be-named's reappearance things have been _so chaotic_. Give my best to Harry, Albus, will you? Ta!" With that he disappeared in a loud 'crack', nearly giving Ed a coronary.

"What the hell!" he blurted as he jumped about a foot in surprise. Dumbledore merely smiled and said, "Shall we get back to the school?"


	4. Scry For the Truth

Ch. 4- Scry For the Truth

Half an hour later, after another uncomfortable ride on a Portkey, Edward slumped onto his bed in his new quarters and pulled out his journal. This entry he focused mostly on how strange this world was and how short of a leash he'd been put on by the Ministry of Magic.

Now that he had some time to think, all the wonders of magic swarmed through his mind. It was irrational; how could magic even _exist_ when it went against the flow of life? Ed couldn't see how it connected with his teacher's 'all is one, one is all' philosophy and was greatly perturbed by the lack of logic and science. Didn't the students think it to be the least bit strange that a word could summon an animal from thin air? Was it advanced alchemy or something entirely different? Was it merely ignorance—a misunderstanding of the universe?

'_I don't suppose I'll ever know,'_ he scribbled at the bottom of the page.

Alphonse was curled up next to him on the bed, purring his little heart out. He returned the notebook to its place and took out his wand. Ed waved it but got no reaction so he tried a variety of flicks. Still yielding nothing, he concentrated on his brother's new face and waved it again; still no response. Frustrated, Ed tried verbal abuse next.

"Show me Alphonse," he ordered; still nothing. "Show me my brother. Show me my home! Show me Winry!" He flicked the wand harder but it still ignored him. "Show me Mustang!" he yelled. If the wand had a brain, it would know Ed was getting desperate. "You _stupid_ piece of rotting _shit_. Show me something—_anything_—you _worthless_ _son of a bitch_!"

Disgusted, Ed chucked the wand across the room where it hit the wall and fell to the floor, not caring it'd just royally pissed off its owner.

"I should break it in two…" he mumbled, but almost immediately he remembered the pile of coins it'd cost.

He retrieved the innocent piece of wood guiltily, deciding the best exchange for its value was to try and learn this _magic_. _'Besides, I'm not allowed to leave, and even if I did I'd never be able to concentrate on rocket science after **this,**'_ he thought reluctantly.

He felt defeated, as if his entire life he'd been working for _nothing_, almost killed for _nothing_, searching for _nothing_. It was such an empty feeling that Edward was overcome with sorrow, so much so his heart ached to be home with his brother and friends, even that bastard Colonel.

Before he knew it he was sobbing into his hands, his body racking due to his disrupted breathing, the tears streaming down his face in torrents. Alphonse tip-toed over and mewed, rubbing his head on Ed's leg as if feeling his master's pain and trying to console him.

To take his mind off his feelings, Ed began reading the four years worth of textbooks he had yet to catch up on. He remembered all of what he took in, however his brain stored it in the 'gibberish' section of his mind.

By dinner he had read through years one and two of the textbooks, but had yet to get any sort of reaction from his wand, or the key to doing so. Halfway through his turkey leg he decided to ask Dumbledore on the matter; he didn't know why, but he was anxious to learn magic now for the sole purpose of returning home, or, if that would take a significant amount of time, to learn how to watch his brother with his wand.

The experience, however much he had enjoyed it, had left him with naught but a deep longing. So, with this on his mind, Ed finished dinner quickly and caught up to the headmaster as he was exiting the Great Hall.

"Excuse me, Sir," he called out.

Dumbledore turned around and his eyebrows rose to meet his hairline once he saw whom it was.

"Ah, Edward, how are your studies going?" he asked.

"For the most part, good, I suppose, however I wanted to talk to you about what happened in the wand shop today."

"I'm guessing this isn't about the number of wands you went through," Dumbledore jested. Edward shook his head.

"I haven't been able to do that…_thing_…my wand did since this morning."

The old wizard smiled and his ice blue eyes twinkled in the dim light of the Great Hall.

"Why don't we continue this elsewhere?" he offered.

Once the pair were concealed in the headmaster's office, Dumbledore faced Edward seriously and began to explain what had transpired.

"The feat your wand pulled this morning was quite amazing. It's what wizards call 'scrying': a technique where the performer can look into the past, present, or future of someone, somewhere, or something they've already been acquainted with."

"Can you teach me?" Edward asked eagerly.

"The technique is very difficult," the headmaster informed him. Ed straightened in his seat, looking determined.

"I'd still like to learn," he said.

"What about the principle of alchemy—your law—equivalent exchange?" reminded Dumbledore.

Edward bowed his head in defeat; he knew he had nothing to offer the man in front of him.

"Sorry, Sir," he said after a moment.

"About our previous deal," said Dumbledore, changing the subject, "Are you ready to tell me your complicated story yet?"

"No," Edward replied softly, his golden eyes cast downwards.

"Then in exchange for scrying lessons you must tell me your story now, despite being ready," Dumbledore said, catching the teenage boy in front of him by surprise.

The proposal seemed reasonable to Ed, however manipulative, so he nodded and took a deep breath to begin.

"My brother and I started learning alchemy when we were very young. Our father had been an alchemist and our mother praised us, so all was well, even though father left us when Al was just a baby.

"Then one day…everything changed. Our mother got sick and died, so we vowed to bring her back. It was a foolish idea, but we were blinded by ignorance and grief. We trained and learned alchemy from a professional and studied human transmutation day in and day out. We never told anyone though; we knew it was forbidden, that no one had ever successfully brought a human back to life.

"Still, we tried, and we failed..._miserably_. I lost my left leg and Alphonse lost his entire body. I sacrificed my right arm for his soul and attached it to an empty suit of armor in the corner. What should have been our mother was something completely different. We created a _monster_…scientists call them homunculi: shells of humans who are inherently evil and who only strive to be human. While my brother and I searched for a way to regain our original bodies, they led us into their trap.

"I became a State Alchemist at the age of 12 in order to gain restricted information on our target. Finally we found what we'd been searching for, the Philosopher's Stone, only it turned out to be something completely evil. Sure, it could bypass the law of equivalent exchange, but the only way to forge one was to sacrifice human lives…a _lot_ of them.

"We found a whole stone, but the homunculi and their leader were after it as well. I died in a fight for my brother's life. He used the stone to bring me back, but the Gate took him as well. I…didn't know what to do. I had my arm and leg back, but it didn't matter; Al was _gone_.

"I was willing to die to bring him back—I was ready to die. It hadn't been that _bad_ the first time. However, when I transmuted myself I subconsciously sent my body and mind to this side of the Gate to _cheat_ death. I'd been here before for a while, so I knew I could make it. Since then I've been trying to find a way home."

Edward finished in a whisper. His face was wet and he realized he'd been crying. Dumbledore looked grave and seemed to pity the one in front of him.

"What about your limbs?" he asked after a moment, "You seem to be intact at the present…"

"My childhood friend, Winry, the blond girl in the vision, is an amazing automail mechanic. She fixed me with metal limbs in exchange for a lot of pain and money." Edward removed his left glove. "When I crossed over to this world, I had to get these." He showed Dumbledore the prosthetic limbs and then swiftly covered them again.

"Well," the headmaster said to lighten the mood, "shall we begin?"

Edward nodded eagerly; the weight of doom was now off his shoulders. He felt relieved that his story was over and that Dumbledore hadn't been disgusted by his past. Instead, he seemed to accept it; Edward realized he had probably seen much worse things in his life, to the point where death and tragedy were not uncommon. He leaned forward on the edge of his chair and listened attentively.

"As I stated already, scrying is the power of seeing what _has_ happened, what _is_ happening, and what _will_ happen. The person performing the art must know the person, place, or object they are scrying. It is broken up into three parts; one for the past, present, and future. The present is the easiest whilst the future is the most difficult, with past falling in between. It takes energy and will instead of an incantation or spell; perhaps this is the reason wizards find it so difficult.

"In the Wizarding community, we are used to channeling our power through our wand and causing a reaction with the spells we cast. For some reason, I have a feeling this should come naturally to you because of the fact you aren't a wizard. Granted, you hold magical power in you, but you don't think of yourself as a wizard because of your background."

Edward nodded, amazed at how easily the old man could read him in such a short acquaintance and explain magic in a way he understood.

"Now then, the key to scrying is to learn to channel the emotions inside you that correspond with the person, place, or object you're trying to scry. In this case it is your brother, Alphonse."

"But that's what I was doing before in the dorm room!" Ed blurted, "The blasted thing wouldn't work no matter how much I concentrated on Al!"

"What were your feelings at the time?" Dumbledore asked wisely, as if he knew more than Ed did.

"I was pissed! The damn thing wouldn't work!" Edward yelled in rage, "It's worthless."

"Does your brother make you angry?" the headmaster pressed on.

"No, of course not," Ed replied, still not understanding.

"Then that is precisely why it didn't work," the ancient mage continued, "Your feelings did not correspond with the image of your brother."

"Oh," Edward said, in a quite unintellectual way.

"So what _do _you feel when you think of your brother?" Dumbledore asked next.

"Love," Edward answered almost immediately, "The two of us share an unbreakable bond of brotherhood from all we've been through. That's why—being separated for even an instant—_hurts_..._so much_."

Ed could feel the tears resurfacing as his voice cracked and his chest compressed. He was left with an ache—a deep longing—as if part of him was missing without his other half to fill the gap.

Wordlessly, Dumbledore handed him his wand and bade him to try scrying. He might as well have yelled it for the deafening ring his silence administered. This time when Ed lifted the wooden rod, the sensation was different; subtly at first, then growing.

A silvery mist flowed out of the end of his wand slowly and then faster as time progressed. The glowing cloud then projected an image of Alphonse on its translucent surface.

The ten-year-old alchemist was sitting at a desk, hunched over a thick leather book. He read fervently, as if his life—or someone else's—depended on it. A few minutes passed and another presence appeared, taking the shape of a thin, blonde-haired girl.

"_Alphonse,"_ she said quietly, worry and sensitivity pouring out from her words, _"Are you ever going to bed? It's nearly two in the morning."_

"_A little bit longer,"_ the boy replied, never looking up from the ancient tomb.

"_Alphonse, you're going to kill yourself if you keep this up."_ Winry sounded hurt as she continued. _"You hardly eat, you hardly sleep, and you're constantly shutting yourself in your study for hours—days on end! I…I don't think Ed is coming back…it's been over a **month**."_

"_Brother **is** coming back!" _Al protested in anger, looking up from his book for the first time, _"I **know** he is. Brother is looking for a way home so I have to search as well. He's helped me **so much**; now it's my turn."_

"_You mean…you—remember?"_ Winry asked in astonishment, _"When did this happen?"_

"_Yesterday afternoon, when I returned home,"_ Al replied, _"I felt a rush and then…it just suddenly came back."_ The boy looked distressed, then returned to his book.

"_Why didn't you tell me?" _Winry asked. She sounded hurt again. Alphonse sighed and closed his book, knowing it'd be a while before he'd be able to return to it.

"_It was…overwhelming. There was so much information, memories—and it happened so fast I felt as if my brain was going to explode. I needed some time to think."_ Al explained this, all the while avoiding Winry's eyes.

"_But…how do you know Ed is okay?"_ the blonde's voice was weak again, trembling.

"_Because…I remember meeting him briefly before the Gate took him and I lost my memory. He told me, 'I promise I'll find a way back', right before he disappeared." _Winry looked taken aback.

"_Do you really think there's a way—?" _she exclaimed.

"_Brother found it, so I will too."_

The vision melted back into Edward's wand and he collapsed in exhaustion. His feat had taken almost all of his already limited energy, considering a good ten minutes had passed within and outside this world.

"That's enough for today," Dumbledore said kindly yet sternly, handing Ed a piece of chocolate, "Here, eat this; it'll give you enough strength to return to your bed."

Ed did as he was told and then bowed deeply before he left for his dorm, all the while his mind spinning on what he'd witnessed. When he arrived he decided to write down the experience and then, very tiredly, he sank into bed and pulled the covers up and over his shoulders. He fell asleep instantly, his dreams consisting of his brother and him, finally reunited, embracing each other and laughing their hearts out. Subconsciously, Edward smiled in his sleep and whispered, "Al…I'll find a way back…I _promise_…"


	5. Tuesday Morning Surprises

Ch. 5- Tuesday Morning Surprises

The next day came quickly as it was Ed's first day of classes. He had been excused from the day before, as Dumbledore said they mostly introduced the curriculum for the year and that he could always rely on Hermione to explain this.

"Supposedly, she takes notes on _everything_," Dumbledore had chuckled.

Today he made it to breakfast on time, courtesy of his map, and immediately began relocating all manner of food onto his plate. Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined him shortly, just as hundreds of owls with packages swooped through the windows into the Great Hall. Edward watched them in awe until one landed with a foot in his glass of juice and the other in his scrambled eggs.

"Holy—!" he exclaimed, jumping back from the table. He owl set down the envelope in his plate, grabbing a piece of toast, and flying off with his payment.

Ed returned to his seat in embarrassment as he noticed the Slytherins—namely Malfoy and friends—snickering into their food. Hermione scowled and picked up the letter from the mess of food with her thumb and forefinger. With a flick of her wand it was clean and she handed it to Edward wordlessly. He opened it, ignoring the fact that the food simply disappeared and found his school schedule.

"What do you have first?" Ron asked, nibbling on the end of a sausage, attempting to peek over Ed's shoulder at the list.

"Double History," Ed replied, skimming the rest of the day's events and then tucking it into his back pocket, "Then Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and double Potions after lunch."

"Whoa," said Ron in surprise, "You memorized all that just now?"

"It's no big deal," Edward said, changing the subject, "By the way, Hermione, did I miss anything important yesterday?"

"No."

Harry cut her off before she could say yes. Hermione scowled as he continued because she obviously disagreed with him.

"The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is a fake, Snape harassed me as usual, Professor Binns was boring as usual, and McGonagall just went over what we'll be doing this year. Oh, and Hagrid just showed us a few of the animals we'll be raising this year," he listed.

"So I didn't miss much," Ed concluded; Dumbledore had been right.

Edward quickly learned what Harry had been talking about when he said Binns was boring. But not only was he boring, he was _dead _too. Ed had finally settled down after getting over the initial shock and blurting, "How the hell can ghosts _exist_?" He'd then been informed and asked to sit down by the professor.

It was perhaps the most exciting event that occurred in the next two hours, all of which Ed spent reading the Potions textbook for year three. He didn't have to take notes as Hermione kindly offered to let him copy hers once he was caught up. Ron and Harry complained about how she never let them copy her notes, but all they got was a sharp look from the teacher and a cold shoulder from Hermione, as she was fervently back to writing notes.

By the end of the class Ed had finished the Potions book and had decided to read the third year of Defense Against the Dark Arts next. On the way to this particular class, he had his nose already in the book, and was still able to somehow maneuver through the halls. Harry, Ron, and Hermione gaped at him, but otherwise said nothing. He was still reading when class started, and would have continued if he hadn't been interrupted by a deep, raspy voice.

"Mr. Elric, would you be so kind as to pay attention?"

Edward's head snapped up to meet a pair of equally gold orbs in complete surprise. Student held teacher in an eye lock, as the younger's burned with inquisition. Finally, he answered due to quick, intelligent thinking.

"Yes Professor."

The classed passed Edward by and left him at a standstill. He was in such confusion he couldn't pay attention to the tall, dirty-blond man in square spectacles who led the class. When they were dismissed, he hung back, pretending to be collecting his notes, and told his friends not to wait up; he had some things to settle, but he didn't tell _them_ that. The new professor was waiting for him with an amused smile.

"Edward," the man greeted, nodding his head.

"Hoenheim," Ed greeted back, then reiterating, "…father."

"It's _Professor_ Hoenheim here," the man corrected, "I'm a teacher now."

"Not at the moment," Ed replied, unable to hold his tongue any longer, "What are you doing here? I thought you stayed in Germany!"

"I did, that is, until I was woken one night by an owl pecking on my window with an envelope tied to his leg. Apparently my son is a wizard." The man's amused smile grew. "I mostly came here to see if it was true."

"It's not funny," Edward grumbled, "This place is maddening; it doesn't make sense!"

"Perhaps wizards have a different view of what makes sense," Hoenheim supplied, "After all, _we_ come from a separate world."

"Whatever." Ed waved this off and changed the subject. "So, how did you end up as a professor?" he asked.

"Dumbledore needed one, and after he realized we were related, he offered me the job. Supposedly magical ability runs in the family…much like alchemic talent."

"But what about your…"Ed paused to search for the right word, "…_condition_?"

"The school nurse—Madame Pomfrey I believe her name was—fixed me in five minutes."

He rolled up his sleeve and beamed at the flawless skin. Ed gaped at it, trying to form words.

"How did she do that!" he finally blurted.

"A dark, sludgy potion and a couple flicks of her wand," his father answered, "I never told her the reason I was rotting; she took one look and diagnosed it as leprosy. It must be a similar disease."

"But do you believe it's really _gone_?" Ed asked, snapping his fingers, "Just like that?"

"I accept what I see," Hoenheim shrugged. There was an odd silence before he spoke again. "So, I was thinking…I'd like to help you find a way home. I'd very much like to see Alphonse again, as well as Winry and Pinako." Edward smiled.

"You have any theories?" he asked.

"Have you?" his dad asked in return, another light smile on his face.

"I haven't had time to visit the library yet," Ed frowned in disappointment, "I've been too busy catching up."

"Well, I guess you'd better hurry to your next class then, since you're already late as it is."

"Couldn't you give me a pass?" Edward asked.

"If I did that, it'd be known we were talking," Hoenheim pointed out, "And Dumbledore specifically told me not to draw attention to us being related."

"You could be giving me a detention," Ed countered.

"Then I'd have to follow up on it," Hoenheim replied, scribbling on a piece of parchment and handing it to his son, "7:00 in my office tonight, and don't be late or it'll be another."

"Yeah, I get ya," Ed agreed slyly, suddenly brightening, "I almost forgot; I have something to show you anyway!"

He left after granting his father an uplifting smile and a wave goodbye. Hoenheim watched him go, grateful his son had forgiven him for his faults; he truly _did_ love his family.

Edward arrived at his Transfiguration class about ten minutes late. He gave McGonagall the pass and sat down next to his friends with a rare peace of mind he now seemed to get only after having an enjoyable conversation with his father.

"What took so long?" Harry asked, "I thought you were just organizing your notes."

"Professor Hoenheim pegged me for detention right as I was leaving," Ed explained, screwing up his face in mock anger, "the old bastard."

"Edward!" Hermione hissed, "You shouldn't insult the teachers like that! And Professor Hoenheim is so _nice_ too!"

"You just think that because he gave you points for being a bloody know-it-all," Ron snickered.

"Shut up and turn your spider into a tea cozy," Hermione huffed, demonstrating perfectly. Ron gulped as Professor McGonagall walked over.

"Excellent job as usual, Hermione. Five points to Gryffindor," she praised, turning a weary eye to Ron next, "Is there a problem, Mr. Weasley?"

"N-no ma'am." The red-head replied nervously, whining under his breath the second she left, "Why _spiders_? Why _me_?"

Ed tried to turn his spider into a tea cozy—he did, but he didn't believe it'd work for him. It didn't. Hermione told him he was doing the correct flicks and swishes, and that it _should_ have worked, but no matter how precise Ed had the technique, the spider wouldn't disappear. Hermione promised to teach him starting with smaller and simpler items, however much Ed insisted he'd get it right eventually.

"You can't do it without _practice_!" she snapped.

Edward sighed deeply; the academic necessities were going to end up completely wasting all the time he _could_ be searching for a way home. As it was, he hadn't been able to go to the library yet, something that _really _bothered him. Usually the library would be his _first_ priority.

_'Maybe I'll go there for lunch,'_ he thought. He was used to two meals a day from all the years Alphonse and him had traveled. Sometimes they'd skip for research, sometimes they couldn't find a place to eat, and sometimes they were short on money.

Class ended and Ed still hadn't made any progress on his spider. He didn't particularly care—he didn't think life should be altered so easily. He told his friends he was going to the library while they were exiting the classroom. Hermione merely accepted this and decided to go as well. Harry and Ron gave him strange looks, shrugged, and walked away mumbling about him and Hermione being "the perfect match for each other since they were both bookworms anyway".

Edward was at a standstill when they reached the library. Even though Hermione and the others knew he was trying to find a way home, he didn't feel comfortable searching while she was present. It was a risk he didn't want to take; numbers of questions would surface if he came across an unorthodox way home. Questions like,

'what did you do to get _over_ here?'. They were questions Ed did _not_ want to answer.

Therefore, much to his disappointment, he settled for reading his textbooks. By the end of lunch he had the Defense Against the Dark Arts and the Care of Magical Creatures books for year three read. That left Magical History and Transfigurations for year three, and then all of his classes for years four and five. Ed sighed—there was _so much_ to do!


	6. Showing Up Snape

Ch. 6- Showing Up Snape

Double Potions was next. Ed had heard Harry complaining about the teacher, but he was still looking forward to the class. Creating potions seemed to be a cross between alchemy and cooking; you add a specific amount of different ingredients together in a cauldron to create a specific product.

The four Gryffindors entered the dungeons early so Ed began reading the Transfigurations book for year three. He'd already decided to skip Magical History, since everything was information and each year brought new material. It lightened his load, however little, which helped him somewhat. He was on chapter two when he felt an ominous presence lingering over him. He shut the book and looked up to find the teacher, Professor Snape, he presumed.

"What do you think you're doing, Mr. Elric?" he asked.

His voice was smooth and almost snake-like. He reminded Ed of Mustang, what with the way he seemed to relish his power as a teacher and the light smirk he had on his face.

"I was merely trying to catch up before class," Ed replied politely, despite his annoyance, "I was going to put it away once we started."

"Class has_ already_ started," Snape corrected him.

Ed glanced at the clock on the far wall; it was five seconds after the beginning of class, meaning he still had time before Snape came over. Ed nodded anyway; better to agree with the teacher and suck up to him instead of getting on his bad side. Edward was convinced Snape was performing a sort of initiation situation for him to test him out. Once he learned he couldn't infuriate Ed, he'd back off. At least, that's what Ed learned in the military from Mustang, although he'd lost _that_ game.

"My apologies, Professor," he said, putting the book away.

"Mr. Elric, have you read up to year five for the Potions material?" Snape asked, changing the direction of his initiation.

"No, Sir," Ed replied, respectively and calmly, "I have only read up to year three."

"Why aren't you prepared for _this_ class, Mr. Elric?" Snape asked next. Edward could tell he was becoming peeved by his collected answers.

"I am reading my textbooks by year. I'm treating each class equally because each class is equally important to my education," Ed explained.

Snape's face was screwed up in clear frustration because he couldn't get Ed to raise his voice or talk in a rude manner or do some other offense to take away points and land him in detention. After trying to think of _something_ he could say to change this, Snape reluctantly went to the front of the class and told everyone to turn to page 735.

"We'll be making the Wolfsbane potion," he said, "It's probably the hardest you will learn this year so I'll be grading it as such. It's worth 40 percent of your final grade so you'd better not mess it up. I'm not giving out extra credit to students who cannot get something right."

He stalked to his desk and sat down, ignoring the class and silently telling them they'd get no help and no sympathy. Reluctantly, the class got to work, too afraid to groan lest they lose valuable points.

Edward flipped to the correct page and read the directions. Not only was the potion based on intricate ingredients in specific amounts and cut shapes, but it was also based on time. At one point there was a thirty second window to cut a section of the Wolfsbane root into crescent shapes and drop it into the cauldron one by one. Clearly, Snape was doing this to try and flunk him. Of course, if he had alchemy this would be a snap, but unfortunately _that_ was impossible here.

Instead he prepared the ingredients beforehand and then started adding everything to the cauldron in the correct order. He looked up once to see that Ron, Harry, and even Hermione had followed his idea, and that Snape was glaring at him, trying to strike him dead with his intense stare.

Soon Ed's potion was taking the distinct putrid smell that was expected of it. Snape had stopped glaring at him, as he finally decided it wasn't working, and was now looking greatly perturbed that Ed's potion was coming along correctly. He was even more perturbed when, at the end of the double period, all the Gryffindors had a promised 40 out of 100 for their final grade on the second day of class. Edward was smirking behind his stoic face; Snape had dug his own grave, and equivalent exchange had buried him in it. It was the way of the world at it again.

Seven o'clock came quickly afterward. Ed finished year three of his textbooks before dinner and half of year four before his supposed 'detention'. He arrived at his father's new office at 7:30, just to be safe; he wanted another detention so he would have a liable excuse to talk with his father.

"You're late," Professor Hoenheim said as he rose from his desk, arms crossed.

"I know," Edward smirked, "Guess you have to give me another detention."

His father shook his head and chuckled lightly; his son would never change. He'd always have the same childish arrogance to him that he had when he was young. It was the side that refused to drink anything that came out of a cow and bashed anyone referring to his lack of height.

"Didn't you have something you wanted to show me?" he asked at last.

"Right," Ed replied, digging in his pocket and pulling out his wand, rolling it between his fingers as he talked, "When I got this thing something weird happened and it showed me a vision of Amestris. It dissolved after giving me a glimpse of what's going on over there. Al had his body back but he looked young, and Winry looked herself. Dumbledore taught me how to do it again. It's called scrying; you can see the future, past, or present of those you know. Right now I can only see the present, but I'm working on it. Anyway, the second time I saw Al he was trying to find a way to bring me back. Apparently when I revived him, the Gate took his memories, but in my vision he had them back."

"Incredible," Hoenheim uttered softly, shaking his head in disbelief, "This world is so different from ours. There are things we've never even dreamed of in everyday life for these people."

"And none of it makes sense," Ed pointed out with a frown, then changing the subject. "Hey, are we giving this thing a test drive, or what?" he asked with a glint in his eyes.

"Go ahead," his father bade.

Edward concentrated now, pulling the love for his brother and the agony of being separated from him to the forefront of his mind in order to call for him. This time, the vision formed quicker and took less of a strain on Ed's body; he could tell he was improving this skill. Perhaps he'd even be able to see the future someday, but at the moment he had to focus on the present.

A picture of Alphonse materialized from Ed's wand. He was sitting in the same room at the same desk. A different book was spread out in front of him this time and he was sleeping, arms crossed under his head, one hand still gripping the edge of the book. His dirty-blond hair was falling in his face, and as he exhaled, the strands would flutter slightly from the sudden gust.

The coat that Ed had left behind when he transmuted himself for Al's life was draped over the chair, neatly folded. Alphonse was wearing his shirt, which seemed to fit him perfectly. It was odd seeing his old clothes on his brother, but somehow it was comforting; the clothes suited him.

Ed broke the connection since there didn't seem to be any change in his brother's state. Just before he did so, he thought he heard Al whisper, _"Brother"_, in his slumber, but it could have been his imagination. His father was staring at the place where the vision had been, his eyes seeming solemn and lonely.

"I miss him," Hoenheim said quietly.

"So do I," replied Edward, tucking his wand back in his robes.

"Well," his father changed the subject, "in order for this detention to seem official, I'd say you have another hour before you can leave. Was there anything else?"

"No; I haven't had time to search the library for a way home and all my theories are impossible without alchemy."

Ed sighed and sat down in one of the chairs by his father's desk, letting his head fall into his outstretched hands.

"I want to leave before I get attached," he said after a moment, "I can already feel myself belonging here and I don't want that; I want to go home where I _truly_ belong."

"I understand," Hoenheim said, "I know how it feels to leave those you care about; the sooner we find a way home, the easier it'll be for everyone."

That said, Edward turned to the textbooks he had brought with him. Two hours passed before he realized he could leave. He set up another detention for Saturday at the same time, bade his father a good night, and wound his way through the corridors to the Gryffindor house entrance, checking his map now and then for guidance. He gave the Fat Lady the password and stumbled into the common room, collapsing into the nearest chair and pulling out the next book in line.

The clock struck midnight before he returned to the boys' dorm, satisfied he had only one year of text left to finish. After scribbling the day's events into his journal and securing it in his suitcase, he crawled into bed and snuggled under the covers with the essence of worry on his mind; this place was already starting to feel like a home, and only two days had passed.


	7. Wednesday Horrors

Ch. 7- Wednesday Horrors

Edward struggled to rise the next morning; his back and neck were sore from hunching over books and he was still tired from the night before. It was a chore to get dressed and amble down to breakfast instead of blowing off his classes and sleeping them away. Now he was bent over a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of coffee, trying to drown his lethargy in the dark, bitter liquid.

"Hey Ed," Ron and Harry greeted, eyes barely open and arms limp at their sides. Both collapsed into their seats and began reaching for food on routine alone.

"And I thought _I _was tired," Ed joked, "What's up? You two look close to death."

"Quidditch practice started last night and went on _forever_…" Ron complained, "You'd think Wood'd let us take it easy on the second day of class, but _no_…"

"We would have invited you to watch if you hadn't had that detention," Harry said, "Quidditch is really fun; you should get into it."

"What is it?" Edward asked, only a small part of him actually interested. Hermione, who had arrived not a minute ago, rolled her eyes.

"It's the most popular sport we wizards have!" Ron explained, perking up instantly, "Seven players on brooms go against another team and try to get the most points. There are three Chasers—they score with the Quaffle by putting it through either of three goal posts. The Keeper prevents the Quaffle from going in their team's hoops and the two Beaters hit these jinxed balls called Bludgers toward players on the opposite team to throw them off balance. Then there's the Seeker—that's Harry—he flies around trying to catch the Golden Snitch. It's a sneaky little devil of a ball that fits in your fist and it's bloody fast too! Once the Snitch is caught, the game's over and the team with the most points win. A goal is worth 10 points and catching the Snitch is worth 150. You get it now?"

"Somewhat," Ed replied; he'd grown disinterested at the mention of flying brooms.

"You can hear about it all you want, but there's no other way than to see it in action," Harry cut in, "You should _definitely_ come to the first game. We're playing Hufflepuff on Saturday."

"Yeah…" Ed agreed, feeling uncomfortable; he was hoping to use to weekend to search the library. _'Then again, I don't have to go,'_ he thought, _'Don't get attached; I'm better off ditching the game anyway.'_

The day passed pretty much with the same results as the one before. Ed finished reading his textbooks by dinner and now walked to Dumbledore's office with a full stomach and a question on his mind.

"Can I help you?" inquired the headmaster as Edward sat down across from him.

"I was wondering…what happens if you try and scry someone who is dead?"

"Instead of a vision, your wand emits a dark cloud. I suppose you could say _nothing_ happens; the same thing will occur if you try to scry someone you don't know," Dumbledore answered wisely.

"It makes sense…" Ed muttered.

"Have you practiced since Monday night?" Dumbledore asked, curious of his student's progress.

"Yes; it was easier, but I think that was because it was the same person," Ed replied.

"And you would like to try someone different," concluded the ancient mage in front of him.

"Yeah, someone whom I don't exactly know how I feel about," decided Edward.

"Well, give it a try. I can only give you tips on how to succeed. In this case, my advice is to picture the person you want to scry in your mind as clear as possible and let your emotions go for a moment. They should collect themselves correctly for the person if you're lucky," Dumbledore directed.

Edward closed his eyes and held his wand out in front of him. He pictured the being he wanted to see in his mind and as Dumbledore had predicted, his feelings reacted. Now he focused on them: annoyance, affability, anger, and appreciation all at once.

Slowly, the essence of a man appeared, pacing back and forth in a small, dimly lit, one-room cabin. A fire blazed in the hearth and snow fell heavily outside. A book of matches lay on the table next to what seemed to be week-old dishes. The man moved toward the fire to gather warmth and his features grew recognizable except for a black patch covering his left eye.

Outside the man's world, Ed sucked in his breath sharply out of horror and the vision faded due to his lack of concentration. The black-haired man, who stared so intently into the fire, seeming to probe the flames for the answers to unknown questions, curled into wisps of smoke and disappeared into Edward's wand.

"Mustang…I wonder what happened…" Ed murmured, then turning to Dumbledore, "Sir, can you teach me how to see his past?"

"You're a fast learner, Edward, and I congratulate you for that, however, seeing the past of someone else is very difficult. It is easier looking into your own past; you merely need to remember your emotions at the time you want to see. Scrying someone else's past is much more complicated and uses twice as much energy. Wizards don't know how to explain how one goes about doing so; _I_ believe you need to know the emotions of the person you want to scry that they felt at the past you want to see, however it is near impossible to do because you don't know what happened," Dumbledore explained, "What you did is good enough for tonight; I will see you Monday for the next lesson if that agrees with your schedule."

"Yeah, see you then," replied Ed, somewhat disappointed, yet satisfied with the information and experience he'd received. He returned to the dorm, finished the homework he had, wrote a couple pages in his journal, and fell asleep well past everyone else.


	8. Thursday Catastrophes

Ch. 8- Thursday Catastrophes

The next morning was even worse than the previous; if anything, Ed had used more energy the day before, even though he went to bed relatively early. He hadn't felt the effects of his scrying lesson last night, but now it seemed to have caught up to him; he could barely get out of bed.

"Ed, we have to go!" Harry's voice cut through Edward's consciousness, quite rudely in his opinion.

"Shut up…" he growled, burying himself under the covers to stave off the noise.

"I don't care whether or not you get up, but if you don't you're going to miss breakfast," Harry replied indifferently.

This motivated Ed; he didn't like the idea of passing up a chance for food. However, he was so tired he accidentally took the wrong pitcher without knowing until he actually drank it.

"Unhg, nasty!" he exclaimed after presently spitting the cloudy, white liquid back into his glass and running his napkin over his tongue.

"Uh, Ed?" Ron asked with a raised eyebrow, "It's only milk."

"Unhng…" Ed groaned, his face gaining a greenish tint, "I _hate_ milk."

"Come on, it can't be _that_ bad," Hermione insisted.

"I just drank cow fluids…" Ed groaned again, holding his stomach.

"Well, when you put it _that_ way," Harry chuckled.

"Here," Hermione said harshly, slamming a mug of coffee in front of Ed, "drink this to cover up the taste and get over it; our first class starts in ten minutes!"

Edward did so hastily, mostly out of caution; when she was worked up, Hermione could bite as hard as First Lieutenant Hawkeye.

The first class of the day was Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid. The foursome rushed across the grounds and down to his hut just as the clock struck eight, signifying the start of class. Hagrid motioned the students closer with his burly arms so it'd be easier talking to them. He then began to inform them on the large, long-fanged felines behind him.

"Th'se here be Sphinxes," he told them, "Can anyone tell me where they come from?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. The class rolled their eyes and Malfoy mocked her behind her back, jumping up and down with his arm up.

"'Ermione?" Hagrid asked.

"Sphinxes originated from ancient Egypt and were once worshiped as gods," Hermione rattled off.

"Very good; 10 points ter Gryffindor!" Hagrid said, delighted, then continuing, "As 'Ermione said, th' Egyptians used ter worship th'se wonderful creatures. They aren't now, a shame really, bu' they still think ter be better than us 'umans. Yer got ter treat them like royalty er else yer very much migh' be killed. These brutes 'ave dagger-like claws 'n razor-sharp fangs. 'Owever, they're an extremely valuable ally. Anyone know why?"

Again, Hermione was the first to answer.

"They have a sort of sixth sense; they can tell when something bad is about to happen before it does and will either protect or warn its servant in some way."

"Thank ye, 'Ermione," Hagrid said gratefully, "Another 20 points ter Gryffindor fer such a brilliant answer."

Malfoy and his goons sneered at this while Hermione and the rest of the Gryffindors beamed.

"Now then, time ter get acquainted," Hagrid said jovially, "Come on, don' be shy; pick an animal 'n get ter know 'em. Remember ter be extremely polite 'n only refer ter them as 'th' Great One'."

The area around Hagrid's hut soon echoed with "Oh Great One", and "Please accept this humble piece of meat, Great One".

The lesson was going smoothly until Lavender Brown accidentally dropped her piece of meat on the ground. She brushed it off and offered it to the Sphinx in front of her, as it'd seemed fine. The Sphinx, however, did not find this to his liking. The great cat growled loudly and knocked the steak out of her hands with his head, nearly cutting her with his monstrous teeth in the process. Lavender shrieked and dropped the meat again, cowering in fear with her arms covering her head, too scared to run.

The feline growled again and was ready to pounce and teach the insolent creature in front of him some manners, until he found another human blocking the path to his pray. Edward stood, arms spread wide to obstruct the Sphinx's way, a defiant sparkle n his eyes and bravery set upon his face.

"I apologize, Great One, but I cannot allow you to kill her."

The Sphinx growled in malcontent, believing the one in front of him was mocking his greatness; surely it was his decision who should die and who should live.

"Please back away," Edward said calmly, keeping eye contact with the Sphinx to show he was serious.

His golden orbs burned into the other's yellow-green ones with a defiance that the noble feline despised. He rushed at Ed with an angry shriek, fangs bared and claws ready to slice him apart. Ed reacted immediately and blocked the attack with his right arm, wincing as he heard the prosthetic limb break, and kicked the creature as hard as he could with his left leg. The gigantic cat was thrown backward where it landed on its feet, hissing in rage, but discouraged from attacking again.

Edward held his crushed arm with his left hand so that he both supported the limb and covered the ripped material where the mechanics were exposed. He purposely ran his hand along a sharp piece of metal that was sticking out so it looked as if his arm was bleeding. He then winced again, pretending to be in pain, and dismissed himself to the Hospital Ward, hoping his ruse had been convincing enough. He left behind worried and confused faces.

On the way there, he wondered what he'd do when he arrived. What would he say? _'The truth,'_ he supposed, _'But will she be able to fix it? And how will I explain my hand to the others?'_

It turned out to be better than he expected. Madame Pomfrey fixed both the mechanical and corporeal injuries with a wave of her wand, promising not to release any information about his condition.

Now Ed walked, very slowly, to Defense Against the Dark Arts with a repaired arm and hand, about fifteen minutes early. He would have liked to have used the extra time to talk with his father, but he knew for a fact Hoenheim had another class. He didn't have to worry too much about wasting time, because he took a wrong turn at one point and had to use his map for reference.

He scurried into the room just as class started to find his father standing next to a shaking trunk, a faltering look set on his face. Ed took his seat and shot Hoenheim a silent question, but was ignored.

"Today we'll be having a hands-on lesson," Professor Hoenheim announced, "So if you will, please put everything away except for your wands."

There was some shuffling as everyone did as they were told. All seemed excited except Ed, who, other than scrying, had not yet been able to use his wand. Mostly it was _his_ fault for not practicing, but that didn't help with his lack of confidence.

"Now, can anyone guess what is in this trunk?" Hoenheim asked, the look from before returning full-scale.

To Ed, it seemed as if his father didn't know what he was doing, or what was in the trunk, for that matter. Luckily enough for the nervous professor, Hermione's hand shot in the air.

"That would be a boggart," she informed the class.

"Very good," Hoenheim praised, "Ten points to Gryffindor."

Relief washed over Hoenheim's face. Ed had to admit, his father was quite a good actor. The class, however, wasn't as impressed; they too figured out the Professor had no idea what he was doing, but were too sorry for him to tell him they'd already covered boggarts. That is, except for the slimy-haired, platinum blonde Slytherin in the back.

"We did boggarts in our third year," Malfoy declared loudly and without any concern of being polite.

"Well then, this will be a good review for everyone," the Professor replied, hiding any embarrassment behind a stoic face, "Now, please get into a line and take turns fighting it off."

The class did so, a few groans escaping as they tried to remember the details in subduing a boggart. Edward, of course, had no idea as to what to do.

"How do I fight this thing?" he whispered, nudging Harry, "I don't even know what a boggart _is_."

"Didn't you read all your textbooks?" Harry asked back, also in a whisper. Ed nodded and flipped through his mental Rolodex, trying to remember what he'd learned.

"I guess I forgot," he said sheepishly.

"Boggarts transform into a person's worst fear. You have to think about what you're scared of and then turn it into something humorous. You then say, _Riddikulus_ while imagining the funny version of your fear," Harry explained.

"My worst fear?" Ed repeated in uncertainty.

"Yeah, what scares you the most?" Harry reiterated.

"I dunno…" Ed replied, searching for an answer, _'What do I fear? Dante? No, she's just evil…'_

Ed's face dropped to pure unease as he figured it out. How he didn't remember it fast enough escaped him. There was only one person he feared: Izumi Curtis. Now he granted himself some fun. He imagined his former alchemy teacher hovering over his brother and him with her death look, dreadlocks floating on her ominous aura. Then he imagined one of them getting caught on the low hanging branch of a tree so she couldn't reach the pair. Ed chuckled out loud at this scenario; this would be fun.

The line moved at a reasonable pace with the usual fears being displayed: snakes, large animals such as bears and lions, spiders, and even Professor Snape. Each student fought off the boggart with little effort and emotion; to_ them_, this was boring and a waste of time. For Edward, it was quite interesting; he could imagine a few students being scared of Snape, but compared to his teacher, everyone else's fears seemed childish.

Harry stepped forth and the majority of the class either turned away or closed their eyes. Ed, confused, wondered why _his_ fear would cause such different reactions and how they knew what his fear would be in the first place.

The boggart turned into a dark cloaked, floating creature that was completely hidden except for a pair of clammy-green hands. The atmosphere around it grew immediately cold, and a shiver scurried down Edward's spine; he now knew what the other students' reactions were for.

The class tentatively opened their eyes and their reaction this time was that of surprise, which again sent Ed into confusion. _'Were they expecting something worse?' _he wondered. It didn't matter now since Harry had already uttered the spell and a gust of wind had blown the cloak of the mysterious creature up to reveal a pair of frilly, bright pink, ladies' underwear.

Every student with their eyes open burst into laughter, and the few who didn't, opened them and reacted the same. Ed had to admit, it _was_ pretty funny, until he remembered it was his turn. Still nervous from not knowing whether or not he'd be able to perform the spell, Edward stepped forward with is wand raised, the image of Izumi caught on a tree hovering at the top of his mind.

The first thing he saw was red, and he had to think for a moment before realizing the thing in front of him wasn't Izumi. The metallic smell hit him head on and he understood everything at once; the metallic stench was that of blood, red was its color, and the person drenched in it was—

"Al…" Ed whispered.

He blanched and stepped back trembling, unable to keep his wand steady or remember the spell, what he should be doing, or the fact that this wasn't real. All he could feel was the sickening hole in his stomach that the smell bored, the fear that numbed his senses, and the deep pain in his chest. He couldn't tell if it was heartache or if he was having trouble breathing. He was paralyzed, suspended in fear and consumed in confusion. All he could see was his brother, the person he'd died for, lying lifeless in front of him.

"This can't be right," he told himself, "He was fine yesterday! I checked—" Tears ran down his face and onto the floor now as he choked on his words. "No…no…this can't be happening! Al…Alphonse! Brother, wake up!"

He collapsed to his knees, vaguely aware of a hand on his shoulder until someone blocked his view of Al and some of his senses returned. The room was dead silent as the students stared in horror at his ghostly white face.

"Edward! Ed!" Hoenheim called, half pulling him out of his trance, "Edward, it isn't real!"

Ed's eyes were glazed over and as emotionless as the rest of his face, even though the tears hadn't yet stopped.

"Come, get up," his father bade gently, "Let's go have a cup of tea."

Hoenheim pulled his son to his feet and guided him to his office and into a chair. He returned to the class and dismissed them, not caring whether or not this would ruin his promise with Dumbledore. He needn't have worried, because the students, even Harry and his friends, took the gesture of kindness as normal professor behavior; this wasn't the first time a student had been scared into tears by a lesson.

Hoenheim, however, thought nothing of all of this as he closed the door to his office, turning his attention again to Edward.

"Ed?" he asked quietly, "Are you alright now?"

Edward drew a deep breath, much like he'd been doing in the past moments to calm his nerves and numb his feelings.

"Somewhat, but…" he shivered and continued, "That's something I never wanted to see. I wasn't prepared for it."

"I'm sorry," Hoenheim said guiltily, "I didn't know what was in that chest, or what it did. If I had, I could have prevented this, but I didn't know it'd be this bad…"

"I should have been prepared," Ed disagreed, shaking his head, "I shouldn't have lost control like that. It's just…Al—" He broke off, not knowing what to say.

"I know," his father comforted, "Even if we know it's not real, it's still a terrible thing to see. It makes our fears a reality, knowing it _could_ happen, and if it did, _this_ is what it would look like. No one should have to witness that…"

Edward nodded; that was exactly what he'd been thinking in the moments he'd been left alone.

As promised, Hoenheim made a pot tea for his son while Ed sat in silence, still not quite recovered from his emotional breakdown. The tea helped, and after an hour, once Ed realized he'd totally missed Transfigurations class, he made his way to the library for some peace, as it was his lunch period.

The day continued and ended without further incident, however Edward's classmates had grown increasingly quiet whenever he passed by; they seemed to be acknowledging his unrest. Even Harry, Ron, and Hermione refrained from asking him questions on the matter, as they too felt it was best for their friend never to speak of it again.


	9. Why We Have the Internet

Ch. 9- Why We Have The Internet

The days remaining until the weekend passed in the blink of an eye and soon Ed was waking up to the bright, mid-morning sun. He rolled out of bed at ten thirty, having caught up on his lack of sleep. He all but skipped down to breakfast, despite the scenario two days ago, and then to the library with his mind soaring and free; it felt good to be rid of classes so he could finally search for a way home.

He began tearing apart the library, subject-by-subject, relocating any promising titles to the farthest table in the farthest corner for close inspection. An hour passed when he was found by Hermione, who informed him that the Quidditch game was about to begin.

"I'll meet you down there," he replied, never looking up from the book he was skimming; soon he'd forgotten her.

Another hour passed and now Ed was out of books. He double-checked the shelves he'd scoured before moving on to the next row. Most of this aisle was about potions, but Ed looked anyway; who knew, there might be a potion specifically designed for jumping dimensions. All of the books were worthless to him, however one caught his eye. He tucked it under his arm and continued along the shelf until he finished the row, then brought the book back to his table to read it.

"Magical Power Sources," he read the title aloud to himself, then continuing to the table of contents. He wasn't afraid of anyone overhearing him, as he was the only person in the library. It took one glance for a particular phrase to jump out at him.

"Magical Batteries," he muttered, scanning the sub contents and then grinning ear-to-ear, "Philosopher's Stone." Eagerly, he turned to the correct page and began reading. "The Philosopher's Stone is an ancient artifact…" Ed skipped the paragraphs explaining the Stone's uses and continued.

"Creating the Philosopher's Stone is very difficult, even for the most skilled wizards. Many have died trying and those who didn't either failed to create it or were nearly killed. The Philosopher's Stone acts as a magical battery, a storing place for a wizard's magical energy that can then be used later for their wants or needs. It takes an immense amount of magical energy to be put forth into—"

Ed turned the page and gaped at the desecrated text; the rest of the chapter was missing, torn out by some unknown person. Edward could feel the anger rising in him instantly.

"_**Damnit**!"_ he bellowed, throwing the book down with disgust, "Not **_again_**! Son of a **_bitch_**!"

"Mr. Elric! I will_ not_ tolerate that sort of language in my library! Either settle down or leave at once!" Madame Pince came from behind the bookshelves with a red face and a waving finger.

"There's nothing good here anyway," retorted Ed, storming out of the library and making for Gryffindor Tower.

Half way there his anger dissolved and hopelessness and nostalgia set in. Even what the book had explained hadn't sounded promising, but Ed didn't want to admit another defeat. He'd keep looking, even though he expected disappointment. The common room was empty when he arrived and he vaguely remembered the Quidditch game, but continued to the dorm anyway. There he took refuge in his tapestry kingdom and wrote down everything he could think of in his journal.


	10. Secrets

Ch. 10- Secrets

Harry walked into the dorm room to find Ed's curtains pulled tightly around his bed once again, even though it was a Saturday afternoon. It struck Harry as odd, since it must be stifling in there, and yet to his knowledge, Ed wore covers at night as well. Or, at least, he had been on the first morning of his enrollment.

Harry shrugged; there were things hewanted to be kept secret so it made perfect sense that someone else would seclude themselves for personal reasons. However to Harry, Ed seemed _too_ protective, secluding himself _too_ often. He shut himself inside his tapestry kingdom, or in the farthest corner in the library, according to Hermione, or in the back seat in the classroom. And he was always dressed as if he was _freezing_, wearing long-sleeves, pants, and gloves under his robes, however the gloves didn't seem made for warmth, more for _concealment_.

As Harry pondered all of this, his mysterious friend pulled back the bed hangings and placed a brown, leathered notebook and a pen into his suitcase. He then locked it with a key, pocketed the item, and walked out of the dorm room without noticing Harry. The boy-who-lived supposed this was because he was on the side of the room opposite the door, but the look on Edward's face had told him more; his friend seemed to have overly much on his mind.

Then there was the itching, dubious sensation at the back of his mind. Ed having put his journal under the lock-and-key act had seemed protective to the point where it was suspicious. Harry could _not_ ignore the fact that Ed had suddenly appeared as a confused muggle on the train, to a wizard who seemed to accept the World of Magic despite his age or the fact that he was a scientist.

Then again, the trustful side of Harry's brain reasoned, it'd been Fred and George who ran into him on their way to the Hogwarts' Express. _'But that **could** have been easily planned, couldn't it?'_ the other half quickly refuted. The more Harry thought about it, the more events that had seemed simple resurfaced as something more. He had told Dumbledore he came from a different world and that he was an alchemist. _Then _he'd nearly laid an egg when he heard them mention the Philosopher's Stone.

What if everything was connected somehow? What if he was looking for the Stone? What if he was looking for it so he could give it to Voldemort? What if Voldemort had promised Ed a way home if he succeeded? What if that journal was a way of communicating with the Dark Lord inconspicuously?

Harry _had_ to find out. It wasn't just paranoia, his instincts were telling him _something _was out of place. He quickly crossed the room to Edward's suitcase and pulled out his wand.

"Alohomora," he whispered, and the lock clicked open.

He pulled out the journal and went to his bed, closing the curtains for privacy. His heart pounded in his ears as he flipped to the first page; something was written on the inside cover.

_'If anyone should find this, I beg you not to discard it. Please, hear what I have to say. My name is Edward Elric and I am an alchemist. I was separated from my brother and friends by a Gate that connects two worlds. You probably don't believe me but please try and understand. Where I come from, your ancient art of alchemy is an advanced science. Here, technology has taken that role. I am searching for a way to return to my world, to see my brother and my friends behind the Gate. The reason you have this journal now is because I have gone and cannot return home anymore. That is why I need your help. Inside this notebook is a recollection of my thoughts, theories, and various other things to get across the Gate and inform my brother that I survived, at least for a while. Please, help me find a way. I beg you.'_

However desperate the letter seemed, it could be a disguise. By this time Harry's curiosity was pushed so far he couldn't have stopped unless it had answered his suspicions in a clear, written sentence. Since it didn't, he turned to the first _real_ entry. To his surprise, the page was blotched with dried tears.

_'I'm so sorry…Al. I shouldn't have let this happen. I should have taken better care of you. Why did you bring me back? Why did you sacrifice everything you wished for and everything we worked for just for me? When it was my fault? Everything has been my fault! I'm the one who decided to bring mom back! I'm the one who ignored your warnings! So why? Why? I keep turning around, calling your name, expecting you to be there beside me, but you're not. I'm lost Al; I can't find my way home. _

'_I suppose I should start from when I opened my eyes. You were gone; you and the Philosopher's Stone. I was devastated, but for some reason my mind was at peace…because I knew what I had to do. I wouldn't have been able to live without you Al—I can't live without you! Don't you realize it? It's like a curse. Neither of us can live when the other is dead. That's why you brought me back. But I couldn't end it…I needed you there with me!_

_'I found a loophole in equivalent exchange. Dante—that bitch!—she believes equivalent exchange is all a lie. I still believe; I always will. And for that reason I was ready—ready to die to bring you back. I had my arm and leg back, Al, my real arm and leg!—but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except drawing the transmutation circles on my chest, forehead, and arms. _

'_The next thing I knew I was waking up in Munich, Germany, with my arm and leg gone once again. That is what is on the other side of the Gate. The people over here believe in technology and machines instead of alchemy. Winry would love it here. When a person dies, their energy provides the energy for our alchemy. That is why alchemy doesn't work here. _

'_Dad is here; Dante sent him through the Gate ahead of me. I don't hate him like I used to—I know that would've made you happy. He truly did love mom; that much I know for certain. The reason he left us is complicated. Centuries ago, Dante and Hoenheim loved one another, though he says he never really loved her—not like mom. They had a son, but he died. They tried to bring him back, but in the process dad died. Dante brought him back by forcing another soul out of its body and calling Hoenheim's to it. However, over the years, the body began to deteriorate, which is why he left—to find a cure._

'_We both know how homunculi are born because we created one ourselves. Of course they created one as well. I **hate** to admit this, but Envy is technically our half-brother. However he'll **never** be more than a bastard **shell** of a human to me. I can never forgive him. He killed Maes. He killed me. He indirectly killed you. If not for him we'd still be together, trying to figure out a way to use the stone to get your body back. _

'_I don't know if you're alive, and that's what **kills** me the most, but I **promise** I'll find a way back. And if you're not there I'll try again. I'll keep trying until I know for certain. I love you Al.'_

Harry gulped; this hadn't been what he'd expected to have read. He had _expected_ something along the lines of, 'hey, Voldy, how's it going? Mission's going good—I got into Hogwarts undetected,' or something _like_ that. But this was…_intense_. Who knew Ed would have so much bottled up inside?

The sound of the dorm door opening caused Harry's heart to pound once more. He peeked through the curtains after hearing a gasp to see Edward standing by his suitcase, a horrified look on his face. A chill went down his spine as the alchemist's face hardened with anger and looked around the room, golden eyes falling on the closed upholstering around Harry's bed and narrowing.

Fright and guilt collided with Harry at once. He had half a mind to curse Ed and run for his life, until he felt his arms pulling the curtains back and his feet touching the floor. There was silence as neither of the boys moved. Ed was glaring at Harry, who had the journal in his hands, and Harry's face was screwed up in self-reproach. The tension grew exponentially with the length of the silence, and all the while Harry knew he had to say _something_ to set things right.

"I'm sorry…" he rasped, so softly it was as if it didn't even come out. He tried again. "I'm _really_ sorry…but it's not like it matters…"

He forced his legs forward until he was close enough to hand the journal to Ed, and then continued out the door and into the common room. He knew he'd made a terrible mistake and that his apology probably had no impact, but still, he _had_ to say it. He didn't expect to be forgiven, since he'd thought one of his friends was _evil_. It'd probably be best for him to steer clear of Edward for a while, and keep his secrets to himself.

Edward held the journal in his hands tightly, anger, despair, and fear overlapping each other. He felt violated, so much so he half wanted Harry to disappear. But at the same time he felt almost sad. Harry, Ron, Hermione; they were _supposed _to be his friends, yet they knew next to nothing about him. Friends were supposed to _trust _each other with their secrets, no matter _how _dark they were. Friends were supposed to know each other as well as they knew themselves.

Perhaps it was the lack of information that caused Harry to pry. Perhaps if they knew about his past they would have been able to console them, help harbor the weight of his depression. That might not happen now; he was afraid Harry would tell everyone about him and his friends would alienate themselves from him. He'd grown fond of the threesome in the past week, and would greatly miss their company if that happened, despite his wish to stay disconnected. Their humor and innocent way of life had distracted Edward from his faults and sins.

Still, not even his father knew how much it hurt to be separated from Alphonse. He hadn't told anyone except Dumbledore during his scrying lesson, and even those few words weren't enough. There weren't any words in existence to describe the feeling of being severed from a bond of brotherhood.

Edward knew something had to be done; he couldn't just let Harry walk away and lose everything he'd gained in the past week. He quickly locked the journal in his suitcase once more, making sure to hide it under his bed this time, and hurried into the common room to find Ron and Hermione, but no Harry.

"Hey Ed!" Ron greeted, waving him over, "You missed a great game! What happened?"

"I was busy," Ed replied hastily, "Listen, have you seen Harry?"

"He left in a hurry a minute ago," Hermione supplied, "He had this look that…well, the one he gets when something's happened and he's off to see Hagrid. You could try him there."

"Thanks…Why don't you two come along; I don't know the way and…I have something to tell you."

"Why not just tell us now then?" Ron asked.

"Because I need to find Harry and it'd be uncomfortable for me around all these people!" Ed snapped back, losing his already edgy temper.

"Well, okay, I guess…" Ron said, almost cautiously.

"Has something happened?" Hermione asked suddenly, an alarm going off in her head. Ed merely gave her a transparent look so she continued. "Of _course_ we'll come. Let's go."

The threesome made it to Hagrid's cottage in ten minutes, sure enough finding Harry seated at the table with his 'look' and the 'Universal English Cure': a cup of tea.

"Welcome, welcome! Come on 'n!" Hagrid boomed, ushering the three in and retrieving the correct number of cups for their tea, "I 'ad a feelin' ya'd come, wha' wit' 'Arry comin' all alone 'n upset 'n wha'not."

"Hey guys," Harry greeted halfheartedly, avoiding Edward's eyes, "Thanks for the tea, Hagrid, but I should be getting back to the castle."

"Nonsense!" the half-giant bellowed, "Ed jus' came clear across th' grounds lookin' fer ya, if wha' ya've been tellin' me is true, then ya two're gonna talk this out like men, ya hear?"

"Sure…" Harry consented and sat down again, staring into his empty cup, "Go ahead and…yell and whatnot…"

"I wasn't going to, but…thanks, I guess…" Ed replied awkwardly, taking a deep breath, "I'm actually more ashamed of myself than mad."

"About what?" Ron blurted in total confusion.

"I read Ed's diary," Harry stated bluntly, "because…well, in simple terms I thought he was evil…but I was _totally_ wrong…"

"Well, jeez, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, "I could've told you _that_! Do you take Dumbledore as a fool, or what?"

"No…" Harry replied, "It was stupid—_really_ stupid…I obviously know better now…"

"Is that it? You're beating yourself up because you read his diary?" Ron asked.

"_Ron!_ That's an _extremely_ personal thing to violate!" Hermione scolded, "It's akin to looking in someone's pensive!"

"If it makes you feel better, I've done _that_ too…" Harry said guiltily.

"I don't mind as much now, really," Edward assured him, "It was partly _my_ fault for not trusting you guys. So…I'm going out on a limb here. I'd like you to know the _entire_ truth…_all_ of you, promising you won't tell anyone else."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione nodded and Hagrid excused himself to give the four of them privacy. Ed sat down for the first time and gripped a cup of tea for comfort. He took a deep breath to collect his thoughts and calm his nerves.

"Okay," he began at last, "It all started in a small, country town called Resembool…"

An hour passed before Ed was done and in that time Hermione had made three pots of tea. Ed finished and the room echoed with silence for what seemed like hours until the reactions started to unveil themselves.

"Wow…" Ron said, exhaling deeply, "that's some story."

"I didn't believe you when you said you'd seen too many die…" Harry muttered, remembering the thestrals.

"That's why you didn't get hurt when that Sphinx went nuts," Ron realized.

"We'll help you find a way home, I promise," Hermione said, "Just remember that we're your friends and you can tell us anything in exchange."

"Sure," Ed replied with a wide smile, "thanks."

"We should get back to the castle," Harry suggested, "It's almost dinner."

The others nodded and soon the four exited Hagrid's hut, finding the half-giant himself on the steps, twiddling his thumbs.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, Hagrid," Hermione apologized.

"Not at all, not at all! 'Appy ter oblige an' be of some 'elp once 'n a while. I mean, ya three _did_ clear me name 'n all. 'Ave a good eve'nin'!" Hagrid said jovially, waving goodbye.

The three ate dinner quickly and then followed Ed to the library to help him with his research as they had promised. He showed them the book he had found and the fact it was missing pages, barely able to contain his anger.

"There _has_ to be a good reason for this," Hermione insisted, flipping the pages before the missing text back and forth, "Madame Pince knows the condition of each book; she has some sort of spell on them that lets her know when a book is damaged. I remember being on the far side of the library reading Hogwarts: A History one time and folding the page to mark it; she was all over me in a matter of seconds. The point is, she would have known about this and could have repaired the book instantly. So, either she ripped the pages out herself, or someone with higher power did."

"Dumbledore," Harry said at once, "he helped Nicolas Flamel make the Philosopher's Stone."

"He _what_?" Edward exclaimed.

"It was destroyed, remember? Anyway, if making the stone is as hard as the book implies, it makes sense for him to isolate the information," Harry continued.

"He wouldn't destroy it, would he?" Edward asked in alarm.

"No, probably not…" Hermione said, "More likely he hid it in a safe place."

"Then where? Where would he put it?" Ed wondered aloud, "You know him better than me; any ideas?"

"You could try the restricted section," Ron said, "But you'd need a signed permission slip from a Professor to do so."

"It can't be _that_ hard to get one," Ed shrugged.

"I dunno…the teachers here get pretty suspicious when it comes to the restricted section…" Harry said.

"Even if you can _get_ permission, I doubt it would be there," Hermione cut in, "Dumbledore isn't _that_ dim-witted."

"It doesn't hurt to look," Edward pointed out, "There could be other helpful books, either on the Philosopher's Stone or Alchemy or whatnot that could help me home. I don't care _what _it takes; I'll search the whole _library_ if I have to."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione nodded in understanding; they knew how important this was to their friend.

"But…which teacher are you going to ask?" Ron inquired, "McGonagall is too smart, Snape is just plain evil, and Hagrid would be suspicious and won't go against Dumbledore anyway if we told him…"

"I have another detention with Professor Hoenheim tonight. I'll ask him," Ed said nonchalantly.

"You have _another _one? How'd you manage _that_? " Hermione exclaimed in an outrage.

"I was late for the last one," Ed replied with a shrug.

"And what time do you have to be there tonight?" she asked next.

"Seven."

"It's five after! Get moving!" Hermione cried in hysterics, pushing Edward out of the library. Ed smiled on the way over; he'd done it again.

The detention consisted of Ed letting his father in on everything that had happened in the last four days. He left out the part about his friends, however; he didn't want to be lectured on being careless when it wasn't that big of a deal. The night ended with Ed asking for a permission slip, which he received with a word of caution; Hoenheim had heard tell that the restricted section could be quite dangerous to those who were not weary.


	11. Monday's Suck

A/n- thanks to Dawn, my first reviewer! (runs around house screaming insanely) not even 24 hrs and I have a review! Thank you soooo much! Arigato gozaimasu!

Ch. 11- Mondays Suck

Sunday was spent beginning searching the restricted section and finishing the homework from Friday. Because only Ed was allowed in the back room, his friends helped scour the rest of the free library when they could spare the time. Other than that, the day passed quickly with increasing anxiety as each book Edward found was tossed aside in disgust.

Monday came again with more enthusiastic groans, as the excitement of the first week of school had worn off everyone except Hermione. To Ed, it seemed she was the only one always looking forward to learning, testing, and any other academic relation.

For the Gryffindors, the day started out boring and then turned into a disaster. Fred Weasley missed a Bludger during Quidditch practice and it had hurtled into him. The momentum shattered the bones in his arm and ran his broom into the goal post, where it too, shattered. Harry and Ron came back from practice with Oliver Wood tailing behind them in hysterics.

"What am I going to do? Fred and George are _unstoppable_ beaters as a team! How am I going to find a compatible replacement by _Saturday_? All the backup beaters are _wusses_! They can't hit a Bludger two _feet_! Madame Pomfrey says she has to completely _regrow_ the bones in Fred's arm it's busted up so bad! That'll take _weeks_! We're playing Slytherin in five _days_! If we mess _this_ up we'll _never_ see the cup—!"

"Wood, calm down already!" Harry interrupted loudly, "I'm sure there's _someone_ who can—"

"Who? I swear, Potter, if you find me a beater I'll promote you to Captain next year!"

"Well, I don't know of anyone on-hand, but—" Harry started uneasily, feeling somewhat giddy about the 'Captain' remark.

"What do you mean, 'no one on-hand'? You sure as hell better _find_ someone 'on-hand' or I'll kick you off the team! What are you still doing here! Go find me a beater!"

With his outburst done, Wood left to wherever he was headed, leaving behind two very confused Quidditch players.

"Uh…mate? What just happened?" Ron asked in befuddlement.

"I've _no_ idea, but it seems like I should do what he says. I don't think he's in his right mind at the moment. I can't be _that_ hard to find a beater, right?"

Meanwhile, Ed was on his way to Dumbledore's office for his next scrying lesson. He waited until the Gargoyle let him in and wound his way up the stairs to find the headmaster at his desk.

"Hello Edward," the Headmaster greeted, "What would you like to learn tonight?"

"I want to know how to see Mustang's past," Ed replied, "You already told me how to do it, but are there any pointers…?"

"I'm afraid not; I told you when we first started that Scrying is difficult."

"Well then, here goes," Ed shrugged, pulling out his wand and concentrating on fear, the most obvious of emotions designated with getting one's eye damaged.

Except nothing happened, just as it did when Ed tried again and again, different emotions on his mind. Then it occurred to him that he was looking for the time where Mustang was fighting Pride, so he started over from the beginning. Time after time, all he mastered was a black cloud that slithered mockingly from the end of his wand. The evening in whole was one big disappointment, and so Ed trudged back to the dorms in defeat, feeling more than frustrated


	12. Tuesdays Suck More

A/n- I still don't own fma or hp. I keep forgetting to do a disclaimer though. Sumimasen! Reply minne!

Ch. 12- Tuesdays Suck More

By ten the next night, Harry had asked every Gryffindor able to even _remotely_ play Quidditch if they'd sub for the next game. Some had said yes and Harry had brought them to Wood, but the Captain had dismissed every last one within two minutes of tryouts. The tension between him and Oliver had risen profoundly and now Harry was beginning to think he'd jinxed himself.

He collapsed into a cushiony seat in the common room where few students remained to do homework, one of which being Edward. It suddenly dawned on the boy-who-lived that his new friend was the only Gryffindor he hadn't asked to fill in, minus the first years.

Although he knew Ed didn't even know how to fly, he still migrated over to the table he was at and sat down next to him with a depressing heaviness and a long exhale of breath. Edward paused the report he was writing in mid-sentence and looked up expectantly.

"Yes?" he prompted.

"Uh, what do you think of flying?" Harry asked.

"Honestly?"

"Yeah."

"I think it's a bunch of bullshit. How the hell you wizards get brooms to fly is way over my head. It makes no sense," Ed replied harshly; he wasn't feeling too courteous at ten o'clock on a Tuesday night when he still had tons of homework to do. Perhaps he shouldn't have blown all his time in the library.

"Come on, you make it sound devilish. Flying's really fun!" Harry protested.

"I still don't see the point of it. There are other ways to have fun," Ed countered.

"Ok, here's the thing. Wood put me in charge of getting a good replacement beater and if I don't follow through I get kicked off the team. I _really_ don't want that; Quidditch is one of the few things I'm good at," Harry explained.

"And how does this relate to me?" asked Ed in disinterest.

"Well, I've asked everyone else except you. You're my last hope."

Ed replied with a scoff and a look saying, 'you're shitting me, right?' Harry shook his head.

"Come on, it's not _that_ hard to fly and you've got a really strong arm. Come to think of it, your physique and personality is perfect for the position: strong, fast, outgoing, hard to target…" Harry trailed off because of the death glare he was receiving.

"You wouldn't be calling me _small_, would you?" Ed asked through gritted teeth, "I _grew_ you know."

"Sorry, I'm just trying to make a point; I think you'd be good at Quidditch," Harry insisted.

"No. I haven't the time. Getting home is first priority. Everything else is an unnecessary waste of time."

"Even your so-called 'friends'?" Harry replied hotly, standing up; he was becoming exasperated by Ed's blunt and insulting words.

"Alphonse is my—" Ed started to answer, also perturbed by Harry's lack of understanding.

"You don't have to tell me," Harry replied bitterly, cutting Edward off by raising his hands, "Just don't expect any more help on my part. Thanks for nothing."

As the wizard turned to leave, a wave of guilt struck Ed. He hadn't thought of how generous Harry and the others were to him; how they carried his secret, occupied his mind with thoughts other than home, and so much more he couldn't _begin _to repay them for. It was the first time Ed had made _real_ friends since he was a child so he had forgotten the rules that went with the territory.

He vaguely remembered his mother telling him that friends were to be treated as well as one's self, because of what they gave. Ed realized what he'd said went against this and equivalent exchange as well.

"Wait," he said softly after a moment had passed.

Harry stopped and faced Ed again, ready to lash out further. The look in his friend's downcast eyes extinguished this desire and instead left him with sympathy.

"What?" Harry asked, no particular emotion in his voice.

"I've been overlooking equivalent exchange. I'll give this sport of yours a chance."

Saying this was painfully hard for Edward. He longed to take back this commitment because of the dominating desire to go home, but there was also a tranquil feeling that told him he'd done the right thing. This was confirmed as Harry beamed and nodded.

"I'll give you some pointers before I let Wood try you out," he promised, "Chances are you won't have to play."

Ed nodded as well and Harry departed to the dormitory. Edward sat in a half daze, still unsure of his decision as he finished his homework.


	13. Learning To Fly

A/n- this chapter is sort of a filler for time, but it addresses an important part of hp. And I decided Ed needed a release while I wrote it. (shrugs) reply minne, kudasai! Oh, and I don't own hp or fma.

Chapter 13- Learning to Fly

Tryouts were the next evening so Harry taught Ed how to fly during lunch. The young scientist had been weary of course, but it turned out to not be that bad. Harry had told him the commands to control the broom and how to lean in order to change direction.

"It's like riding a bike," the Gryffindor Seeker had said, "Once you get the hang of it, it's really easy and you never forget."

"More like a flying bike," Ed had mumbled to himself.

Despite the uneasy feeling in his gut, he stepped up to the side of the broom and put his hand out.

"Up," he said, but the broom ignored him. He said it again, only to get the same reaction.

"Get the hell _up_!" he bellowed this time.

The broom jerked upward on a path to hit him in the face. Ed stuck his right hand up in a defense block and caught the wooden handle in mid-strike. The broom, defeated, went limp in his forceful grip. He remembered the next step and straddled the broom, holding it with both hands in front of him. It floated underneath him, obedient at last.

"Good, now kick off easy, fly around the Quidditch field, and come back to land. Remember to keep calm and in control," Harry directed.

Ed nodded and did as he said. The broom wobbled under him as he took off, but righted itself once he got going faster. Surprisingly enough, he enjoyed the wind in his hair, so he made another circle around the playing field, this time going higher and faster.

He felt confident now as he went to land. That is, until he began to dismount and the broom kept going with his hand still attached. The momentum jerked him forward and off his feet, causing him to land face flat on the ground.

Edward looked up with a frown and a collection of dirt. He glared at the broom that was still hovering in front of him, quivering slightly and seeming to laugh at his fumble.

"Damn scrap of firewood," Ed insulted.

The broom wasn't amused by this and presently stopped vibrating. It closed the two-foot gap between itself and Edward, this time succeeding in smacking him in the head.

"What the hell was _that_ for!" Ed bellowed, swiping at the broom with a karate chop.

The broom broke in two at contact and dropped to the ground as a lifeless cleaning implement. Meanwhile, Harry was laughing so hard his sides hurt. Ed glared in his direction and he calmed down so as to not invoke his friend's wrath.

"Sorry," he apologized with a chuckle, "I've just never seen someone go at a broom before."

"It wasn't _too_ expensive, was it?" Ed asked, "I got carried away…"

"Don't worry; I can fix it," Harry said, taking out his wand and waving it, "_Reparo_."

"Huhn…I was hoping I'd taught the stupid thing a _lesson_ by destroying it," Edward grumbled.

"We should get you more accustomed to it and then it'll obey you," Harry chuckled.

The two practiced until the bell. By the end of lunch, Ed could ride a broom with ease and pull off some minor swerves and flips. In the last ten minutes, Harry had chucked rocks at him and he'd dodge them or bat them away with a stick he'd found. All in all, Ed had enjoyed the experience and the regret he'd felt before from neglecting his home and brother, was beginning to dissipate. He was even hoping to get on the team, for Harry's _and _his sake.

Dinner passed with anxiety levels high, Harry because his position was on the line and Ed because, believe it or not, he was actually nervous. The young scientist knew this was crazy, but he couldn't control the butterflies in his stomach. Anger and fear he could deal with, but anxiety and sorrow were where this control ended.

Harry talked to Wood afterward, who took one look at Ed and frowned in discontent.

"Well, let's get this over with," he sighed, not seeming too confident in the blond exchange student.

Ed mounted his broom with minor problems this time, as he had been sure to take a different one. _This_ broom seemed to have less of a mind of its own than the other. He took off and circled the pitch to warm up, then landed to wait for instructions.

"Have you _ever_ played Quidditch?" Wood asked, receiving a shake of the head from the teenage boy in front of him.

"That doesn't mean he can't play," Harry cut in defensively.

Wood sighed again and gave Harry a look the Gryffindor seeker couldn't quite place the meaning of.

"I'm letting the Bludgers go. I want you to chase after them and hit them through the goal posts as hard as you can. Do it ten times and then come back and land. Here."

He handed Ed a heavy wooden bat and motioned for him to get started. Edward did so, flying with one hand on the broom and one on the bat, noticing as Wood kicked open a crate and ducked as two streaks hurdled out of it.

Ed took off after one with moderate speed and gripped both the bat and the broom tighter. He also kept an eye out for the other Bludger, which seemed to be following him closely. He swerved a bit to try and lose it, but the ball wasn't to be tricked so easily. All it did was continue straight, therefore gaining a few feet on him.

Edward picked this up immediately and leaned forward to pull away. He caught up to the other Bludger, took aim, and winged it with all he had.

The Bludger hit the bat with a loud 'crack' and flew off in the direction of the taller of the three goal posts. Ed hovered horizontal to it, about fifty yards away. It took perhaps seven seconds for the Bludger to go through.

Satisfied, Ed broke into a smile, completely forgetting the second Bludger until he noticed it whizzing toward him, not three feet away. Edward rose a meter or so in the air and had to turn upside down to avoid contact.

"That was close," he breathed to himself, before circling around and shooting after it as fast as he could; there was _no way_ he'd let the damn thing get off so easily.

He made another successful pass through the hoop, this time from 100 meters away. He then repeated this eight more times from various distances, becoming bored by the end of the exercise. 'Is there another _point_ to this?' he wondered as he touched down in front of Harry and Wood, his friend grinning ear-to-ear and the latter looking thoughtful.

"Alright, you're on the team," Wood declared, "You'll have to work hard during practice because there's definitely room for improvement. Namely, that would be your flying. You have a strong arm though; good job."

"Thanks," Edward replied, beaming like a child with candy; he didn't understand why, but he was thoroughly excited to have achieved at his goal, for once.

Harry was beaming as well as they left for the Gryffindor common room, ranting about how brilliant he did.

"Seriously, you're a natural," he exclaimed, "Once you got going you were _amazing_! Play like that at the match on Saturday and there's no _way_ we'll lose!"


	14. Quidditch

A/n- anyone notice how Ed's slowly becoming happier? Just wondering; that was the main idea of being friends with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, not just because they're all main characters. I think Ed's childish character comes out in this chapter the most, the one he had in the earlier episodes. He's also getting attached, despite his not wanting to. Anyway, reply please! The best is still to come, so keep reading!

Chapter 14- Quidditch

In the days remaining until the match, Ed worked with George to perfect his technique of both flying and beating. Wood became more optimistic by the second; he saw Ed's skills as perhaps two notches below Fred's. Edward himself was getting sucked into the game; he decided to put his research on hold until Fred returned to the team. It wasn't as if he had been finding anything anyway, he reasoned.

Saturday came quickly with all the excitement. As dawn broke and the sun took its place in the sky, the students of Hogwarts knew it was the perfect day for a Quidditch game between two rivaling teams.

Edward was nervous as he went down to breakfast, but not so much so it'd rid him of his appetite; he still ate with as much vigor. Harry, however, was only able to nibble on his toast; he had an _extra_ person to worry about today.

Half an hour later, both teams faced each other on the field, the Gryffindors glaring at the Slytherins as they shot insults, mostly directed toward the new player in the attempt to throw him off game. Ed was not amused in the least.

"You'd better watch out or a Bludger could knock out some of those _precious_ brain cells of yours!"

A vein popped in Edward's forehead and he exploded in rage, waving his fist at the insulter.

"_I'd_ better watch out! I'm gonna knock your head off your shoulders and pop it like a balloon!"

This said, he got on his broom and the rest of the team followed. Harry and George wore similar smirks at Ed's threat; they had a sneaking suspicion it'd come true. The referee blew the whistle, threw the Quaffle in the air, and the game began.

Edward immediately searched for the Bludgers and saw one hovering dangerously around one of the Gryffindor chasers, Angela, who at the moment had a hold of the Quaffle. Ed took after her and succeeded in hitting the Bludger, which _accidentally_ flew off and hit the Slytherin who'd insulted him in the head. The force knocked the boy off his broom and into unconsciousness where he was levitated safely to the ground by Madame Hooch and onto a stretcher heading to the hospital ward.

Ed smirked; he'd gotten his revenge and now Slytherin was down a chaser. However, this act did _not_ please Crabbe and Goyle, who played the opposing beaters. They charged at Edward, bats thrashing, in formation to sandwich their quarry and send him flying.

Ed didn't need years of experience playing Quidditch to see this coming. He pretended to be oblivious to this onslaught and waited for the perfect moment to swerve upward, causing Malfoy's goons to head butt each other. Each moaned in agony and glared at Ed for duping them, in which he presented them with an arrogant smirk.

The game progressed with less violence and the score rose quickly, favor switching back and forth between the two teams excruciatingly. Now the score was even: 80 all. Whoever managed to swipe the snitch would pull the win.

In a flash of gold, both seekers rocketed forward, neck and neck, only Harry was above both the Slytherin seeker and the snitch. This meaning, of course, that he had more of a distance to cover. However, the wind was stronger higher up and Harry was slowly loosing the millimeters he gained on the snitch.

Unless something happened, Slytherin would win. Ed knew this, but he also knew he couldn't shoot a Bludger directly at the Slytherin seeker. That would only result in a penalty. Hitting the seeker's broom would merely cause it to wobble and therefore would not buy Harry the time he so desperately needed.

'Maybe if I…' he thought fleetingly; there was no time to ponder it more. Edward shot off toward a nearby Bludger, took aim, and hit it with all he had.

Five pounds of magically enhanced, compact leather shot toward the golden snitch at possibly seventy miles an hour, knocking it upward to Harry, who put on a burst of speed and caught it with his left hand.

Both cheers and roars of anger sounded from the bleachers as Harry held up his hand and landed with Edward beside him, beaming.


	15. Playing With Emotion

A/n- today let's talk about the title. I had trouble with this. Actually, I don't remember when I decided to put scrying into the fic…maybe it was there all along…I dunno. But I got the idea from Christopher Paolini's Inheritance series, Eragon and Eldest, which I don't own either. I did though make up a lot of the details to scrying, which makes it my own type of magic; there wasn't much info in the books.

Chapter 15- Playing With Emotion

With the game over, things returned somewhat to normal. Fred's arm healed so Ed was relieved from any more Quidditch matches, although it went unsaid he still held the position of backup beater. Though it was fun while it lasted, Edward was glad to get back to the quiet evenings in the library. Taking a break had renewed his hope of finding a way home; he reasoned that if he could play a sport on a flying broomstick, opening the rift between dimensions would be just as easy.

Yet weeks passed with nothing to show for his efforts and his hope, which had once been inescapably clear to him, was steadily becoming harder to grasp. Hour after hour of searching row after row of books, volumes, and parchment were being wasted away. Edward spent every free second of his time in the library, but its material was confining.

"This is pointless," he sighed, slamming the book in front of him shut.

"I can hardly see how searching for a way home is pointless," came Hermione's collected response.

Both Ron and Harry nodded in agreement, but any encouragement the three hoped to lend, it fell on deaf ears.

"It's not the goal, it's this place! These damn _books_…tomorrow is Halloween; it's been two months and _still_—"

Frustrated, Ed broke off in mid-sentence and tapped the book, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I'm beginning to hate this place," he finished at last.

"Look," Harry began, taking another shot at lifting his friend's spirits, "As long as there are books, there's a chance. We know it's here, we just have to find it."

"Well, we don't know for su—" Ron started, before gaining two pairs of dangerous looks, "but finding out is _loads_ better than never trying and passing up possible opportunities," he finished swiftly.

Ed chuckled and shook his head again, reopening his book with new vigor and knowing this was enough to reassure his friends.

"I thought we'd lost you there for a minute, mate," Harry said, clapping Ed on the back in good humor.

"I don't like failing," he replied with a smirk.

"You don't need to tell _us_ that," Ron cut in.

"Seriously though, you need a break," Hermione pointed out, "You _are_ going to the festivities tomorrow, _aren't _you?"

"I suppose," Ed shrugged.

That night Edward climbed the stairs to the dorm, his thoughts directed toward another disheartening topic that hadn't yet been resolved. In the two months that had passed, he hadn't been able to scry past his own memories and still didn't know what had happened to Roy. It was a mixture of curiosity and worry that caused him to keep trying, he supposed.

He had tried everything to make it work; he had focused on different emotions such as anger, fear, bravery, anxiety and sorrow, and had even revisited his own past to the last time he'd seen his former ranking officer to try and iron out small details he may have missed.

Yet nothing seemed to work and Ed was running out of ideas. Tonight he expected to ponder the scenario, hoping something might turn up.

He was still kicking up dirt, his head in his hands and his wand in his lap, when Ron came up the stairs with his now finished homework.

"How's it going, mate?" he asked for conversation's sake.

"Not too good," Ed sighed, sitting up straighter and fingering his wand.

"You miss your brother, don't you," Ron stated, shrugging, "I guess I know how it feels…somewhat."

"I do miss him," Ed agreed, "but it's not that, it's something else this time; another dead end."

Edward smiled tightly and gazed at the wand in his hands while Ron shifted uneasily. Finally, he spoke up.

"So, you gonna tell me about it, or what?" he asked.

This time, the smile on Ed's face was more genuine. Another moment passed in which all manner of rational thinking evaporated and he began.

"I've been taking scrying lessons with Dumbledore here and there to keep tabs on Al and my friends back home. One of them, Roy Mustang, somehow lost an eye, or _something_. Whatever happened, he's wearing an eye patch now and I can't figure it all out."

"An eye, huh?" Ron said, whistling softly, "I know someone who got their eye messed up. Must've hurt something awful."

"Pain…" Ed whispered, exhaling in disbelief, "Damn…I've been so _stupid_! Ron, you're a _genius_!"

"I am?" Ron blurted in surprise, "I mean, uh, thanks! And, uh, glad I could help."

However Edward was already in his own world, holding his wand in front of him and remembering the feeling of physical pain.

Almost instantly, an image appeared. Ron stood gaping at it while Ed soaked it up, yearning to know the past.

Roy Mustang cried out as he was thrown against a wall and pinned to it with a sword that the Fuehrer held.

"_You really wanted my position badly, didn't you Mustang?"_ he snarled.

Roy didn't answer, but groaned in pain and furrowed his brow because of this. Ed didn't detect any emotion though, which he usually could when he scryed.

"_I can appreciate the vanity and ambition, but you should have been more_ **_patient_ **_about it. Even if this **had** somehow worked, the Council would have found you out and they'd never let an **assassin**__back into their fold."_

"_I didn't_ **_do_ **_this for politics; I couldn't_ **_forgive_** _myself for being_ **_blind_** _for so long! This was the_ **_only_ **_way I could atone for the_** _friends_** _I didn't save!"_ Roy ground out, the emotion now thick in his voice.

"_Well then, by all means let me_ **_help_ **_you with that. Give my **best **regards to General Hughes," _Bradley said maliciously.

He wedged the sword already in Roy's shoulder to the left, widening the gash. Blood soaked the Colonel's clothes already and Ed could see the strain on his face as Roy let out a bellow of pain. The Colonel clenched his teeth to bear it.

"_What's going on?"_ came a soft voice from the door.

Ed could only see a silhouette of who it was and realized he didn't know him, which explained the reason he couldn't scry him. He turned his attention back to the image, in which the Fuehrer looked in the voice's direction and straightened.

"_Hello son. Good news; I caught the rat,"_ he smiled, talking gently to the invisible child.

"_I'm sorry I disobeyed you father, but I just **had** to come back!"_ the child exclaimed, rushing over, _"I **forgot** something and I wanted to make sure you were okay!"_

The Fuehrer bent down and placed his hands on the child's shoulders and smiled what _seemed_ to be genuinely.

"_So what now? You said **people** are fools so how do you explain **loving** him?" _Roy asked in a half whisper, his eyes dimmer than before; he was loosing a lot of blood. Sweat collected on his face, mixing with the crimson liquid.

However, the Fuehrer didn't seem to be listening to the Colonel; he was occupied by a sudden weakness and grunted because of it.

"_Father, what's the matter? You look like you're hurt! What's wrong?" _the child cried in worry.

"_What have you done, you **idiot**!"_ the king growled, sweat on _his_ face now.

"_Huh? I just—I got it from your safe! You said your life **depended** on it and I didn't want it to get hurt in the fire!" _the child explained hurriedly, looking to his father for praise as he withdrew a round package from the bag on his side.

The Fuehrer's hands moved suddenly to grasp the boy's neck, causing the child to choke in pain.

"Father—! Sto—!"

Roy gasped, then pulled the forgotten sword out of his shoulder. Blood sprayed from the wound and he almost collapsed, but caught himself with a grunt of pain.

The sullied hands that grasped the boy's neck clenched tighter and Ed could hear the sound of the neck breaking. In a growl of frustration, the King threw the boy aside where he landed near Roy's kneeling body. Mustang gained his feet swiftly and lunged to catch the boy as he fell, seeming to know it was too late.

"_You **are** foolish! All of you. Even my own son,"_ the Fuehrer spat in disgust.

Roy kept his eyes on his enemy as he set the dead child down carefully and withdrew his hand with the bundle the child had been talking about in it. The bandages encompassing it fell away to reveal a skull, presumably Bradley's since Ed could see it.

The rage on the King's face spread to fill it and he growled again, clenching his teeth and unable to hide the trails of sweat on it. Roy picked his heavy self up off the floor and spoke as he drew the transmutation circle for fire on his left hand, the hand holding the skull.

"_I don't know **how** long you've lived, **Fuehrer**, or **how** many times you've **cheated** death, but not anymore."_

He activated the circle and orange light protruded from it. Flames instantly engulfed the Homunculus, causing him to bellow in pain as Roy continued.

"_It's the end of the line,"_ he ground out, breathing deeply, _"Now, how many times do I have to kill you for you to be dead?"_

He was talking to no one; the Fuehrer was a mere puddle on the floor, a mixture of blood and the liquid form of the Philosopher's Stone. Roy took a few deep breaths, clearly exhausted, then sucked it up and applied his energy into the circle once more to finish off the Homunculus. He sighed as his flames ate away at the hideous puddle, dropping his arms to his sides and tossing the skull into the remaining fire, where it melted.

Now Roy turned his attention to the body of the Fuehrer's _supposed_ son and looked at him in distress, his eyes seeming lost. He picked the boy up in defeat and carried him with faltering steps out of the building.

When he got to the front stairs he looked up in surprise at a robotic being advancing toward him. Ed had to look twice before recognizing Frank Archer, half of which was made of metal.

Archer held up a gun and pointed it at Mustang, taunting the Colonel with his power, who was too worn out to do anything other than freeze in his steps. A gunshot sounded, but not from the expected weapon; Riza Hawkeye was running in the Colonel's direction. She stopped to empty the rest of her clip into Archer's human half, causing him to collapse. In the confusion, a bullet from either gun lodged itself in Roy's eye and he fell with his enemy.

Hawkeye sighed and then continued to run toward the Flame Alchemist, slowing when she saw his now unconscious figure, slumped next to the boy's dead one.

"_General!"_ she called in alarm, worry evident on her face as she knelt next to his bloody form, _"General! **Damnit** Roy Mustang, talk to me!" _she cried in hysterics as she leaned over and cried into him.

As the image faded, it left behind a residue of astonishment; Ed because it hadn't been what he'd expected, and Ron because, well, he'd never seen anything like it.

"God…" Edward breathed, "I thought Archer had died in Lior…I didn't even know automail was _advanced_ enough to mimic the brain's functions…or that Mustang became a _General_…"

"So…that's your home," Ron asked rhetorically, "It's a lot more believable actually seeing it," he added.

"Yeah, I can say the same about your magic," Ed commented, laughing to himself, "The pyromaniac and the trigger happy Lieutenant; as if I never saw _that_ coming."

"Well, I'm glad you figured it out," Ron said, waving goodnight and crawling into bed.

As Ed followed suite, fatigue caught up to him and he realized just _how much_ energy he had used. 'Then again,' he thought with an accomplished smile as he drifted off, 'it was _entirely_ worth it…"

A/n- one last thing: the scrying scene in this ch. is straight from fma, which I don't own either, however roy's last line isn't in the English, but the Japanese version. I liked the line so much I had to use it. 


	16. Day of the Dead

A/n- the brief memory I added in was just a little scenario that suddenly popped into my head. Lol. I almost wrote pooped. Anyway, hope you enjoy it. I no own nothing.

Chapter 16- Day of the Dead

Excitement flitted through the halls of Hogwarts the next morning as anticipation for the festivities rose with the sun. This grew as more students witnessed the decorum throughout the school and especially in the Great Hall where they broke the fast.

Edward had never seen anything like it. He didn't know how the school could transform so dramatically overnight, from empty halls to masses of candles, pumpkins, and even randomly distributed candy dishes. In Amestris, for as far back as he could remember anyway, he had _never_ celebrated Halloween to such an extent. Hallows Eve for the Elric and Rockbell households had been a morsel of chocolate and a plunge into a barrel of water in the hope of capturing an apple.

Other than that, all he could recall was one year when his mother had purchased pumpkins form a neighbor and they had sat around the table, trying to figure out how to carve a jack-o-lantern. Finally, his younger self had gotten frustrated and had used alchemy to produce the perfect pumpkin. Trisha Elric had been delighted, but Al had seemed a little jealous. That is, until he copied his brother's work to a close comparison, the only difference being that Al had made _his_ into a cat.

Ed smiled at the fond memory as he finished his breakfast, thinking of how much his brother would enjoy the little gray kitten still curled up on his bed a few floors above him. 'It would be nice to take him along when I go home,' he thought, 'but then I suppose I'd have to change his name.' He tried to think of something that would suffice, but nothing came to mind. Therefore, he shrugged away the dilemma and left for his first class.

The day was sourly drawn out; the teachers tried desperately to keep the attention of their students, but each knew it was useless when they themselves thought of the events to come. Some teachers, like Hoenheim, had given in to this fact and granted their students a quiet recess; for Hoenheim, this excluded one student.

"Mr. Elric, may I see you in my office, please," he announced at the end of his instructions, "You've missed another detention."

It was meant as a subtle alibi, but the class took the Professor's last statement as a cruel act to humiliate his so-called 'least favorite student'. However, this did not stop most of them from sniggering into their books.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione glanced up at Ed with concern in their eyes, but he shrugged the matter off to assure them it wasn't a big deal. Even so, the three couldn't help feeling as if Ed's blithe attitude was a cause of underestimating the Professor.

Only when the door to the office was tightly closed and the family of two was seated across from each other did Hoenheim's face fall in worry.

"Are you faring well, Edward? I haven't heard from you," the old man asked.

"I'll admit I've been a bit busy…" Ed replied guiltily.

"Are you getting any closer?"

"Hardly, unless you can count every eliminated book."

The sarcasm in Ed's voice revealed his frustration and unknowingly caused his fist to clench.

"Have patience, son, we'll find the answers to our questions yet," Hoenheim consoled.

"Have _you_ found anything then?" Edward asked; he received a sad shake of the head.

Sighing, the familiar depression that drew in a wave of fatigue settled in and suddenly the weight on Ed's shoulders seemed heavier.

"What _I _don't get," he stated, "is why I don't already _know_ this information. I mean, the Gate showed me the truths and secrets of the world, right? So, why not the stuff I _need_? It just…doesn't seem like equivalent exchange…"

"Magic doesn't seem to follow equivalent exchange, and yet it surrounds us," his father pointed out.

"That might not be true…I'm beginning to believe there _is_ something balancing out the use of magic. Something…_intangible_…" Edward disagreed.

"Be that as it may, equivalent exchange is becoming harder to see clearly. Then again…perhaps the Gate took back the information you need now as retribution for letting you pass through it instead of dying," his father mused.

"Maybe…" Ed trailed off, lost in uncertainty.

"Anyway, I'm supposed to be giving you another detention date. Are you planning on attending the festivities tonight?"

"I guess, for a while at least," Edward replied.

"Then how about tonight at ten? Hopefully the party will be somewhat over by then and this will throw any suspicions out the window," Hoenheim explained.

"All right then, but if I'm having a good time, I won't show," Ed declared waywardly.

"In that case, I will hope for you not to come," his father responded with a warm smile.

Putting on an angry scowl in order to play his part, Ed returned to his desk, immediately gaining the attention of his friends, who were anxious to know what had occurred.

"I can't believe it. That old geezer gave me detention tonight," he told them in fake rage, "he's enjoying this; I know it!"

"Blimey, that sucks," Ron stated, pity in his words.

"That's okay; I don't intend on going," Ed declared.

"What do you mean? Of _course_ you're going! The Professor may not have taken away points yet, but he's bound to start and you don't want _that _on your conscience!"

"Hermione, I really don't care."

"Well, you should! As a member of this house, you represent Godric Gryffindor!"

"Whatever…anyway, I don't think the Professor cares about points either; he just enjoys wasting all my time," Ed pointed out.

"I'm still not taking _any_ chances that will land Slytherin the house cup, even if I have to _personally _escort you tonight!" Hermione exclaimed hotly.

"If you insist," Ed replied, trying not to laugh at her overreaction.


	17. Hallow's Eve

Chapter 17- Hallows Eve

"Ed! Hurry up; we're gonna be late!" Harry called from the top of the dorm stairs, "You too, Ron!"

"Coming," both answered, hurrying over.

The three met Hermione in the common room and then rushed down to the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast. When they arrived, they found the food already on the tables and hastened to join the extravagant meal.

Halfway through his slice of pumpkin pie, Ron tapped Ed on the shoulder, signaling for him to be quiet and motioning toward his brothers a few chairs down, who were dumping the contents of a large flask into Neville's goblet.

"What is it?" he whispered, feeling mischief in the air.

"Fire whiskey. Fred and George convinced some drunken bastard to buy them some at the leaky cauldron. They've been saving it for a special occasion such as this," Ron supplied, tapping Harry on the shoulder and gaining his attention.

"He'll be happy tonight, but come the morning…" Harry chuckled and shook his head, "Poor Neville."

"What's wrong with Neville?" Hermione asked, catching Harry's last words.

"Nothing, I'm sure he's fine," Ron cut in, getting up and heading toward his kin.

He returned a few minutes later with the flask, which was about half full. While Hermione was talking with Ginny, he sneaked a shot into his, Harry's, and Ed's goblets. He then gave it back to the twins and sat down in anticipation for his treat.

"How'd you convince them to give you some?" Harry asked in excitement and wonder, taking a sip to test it out.

"Easy, I told them I'd snitch if they didn't," Ron replied nonchalantly.

"Uh…I'm not much of a drinker…" Ed voiced, staring into his cup, "Is it strong?"

"That depends on the man," Ron told him after draining his and chuckling at his own mirth.

"It's got a bit of a kick to it," Harry announced after following suite, his words slightly slurred.

"Alright then," Ed decided.

He took a sip, despite his better judgment and choked as the fiery liquid burned his throat. After this, better judgment won and he tipped the rest into Ron's cup, eyes watering.

"Thanks, mate! I owe you one, big time!" his friend exclaimed, a tad louder that needed, and finished it off.

He chuckled and hiccupped as he set his glass down, a red hue coming into his cheeks.

"Ed, it's about time to…" Hermione started, then noticing Ron's stupor, "Ron? Are you okay?"

"'Bout as fine as a ruttin' dragon durin' matin' season," Ron replied, grinning widely and peering at Hermione as if she was the mate.

"What the bloody…?" Hermione cursed, leaning in to Ron and taking a sniff, "I knew it! You're drunk!"

"I ain't not drunk," Ron protested, "'Arry's th' one who can't never 'old his licker!"

"Says who?" Harry challenged, blinking repeatedly to keep coherency.

"I can't believe you two! If any of the teachers find out about this you'll be expelled for sure!" Hermione exploded, "Ed, you didn't as well—?"

"Nope, I'm sober, promise," Ed replied with a grin.

"Then _what_ is so funny! That's it, you two are coming with me! Ed, you'd better make this detention, or _so_ help you—!"

"Okay, okay, I understand," Ed agreed, trying not to smile, "But perhaps you should help Neville as well…"

All three immediately redirected their attention toward Neville, who, as if on cue, fell out of his chair, unconscious. Fred and George burst into laughter and presently gained Hermione's wrath.

"You two! Did you do this!" she demanded, grabbing an earlobe on each and tugging relentlessly.

"No worries, she-devil!" one squealed.

"We know a sobering charm," the other finished.

"Then you're coming as well. Hurry and pick up Neville. Ed, I'll be coming to make sure you get to detention as soon as I get these _idiots_ sorted out," she declared, dragging off the four boys, the unconscious one hanging over Fred's shoulder.

Edward chuckled as she left, getting up and deciding to cut his friend a break, for once.

A/n- this scenario was too funny to pass up. So…what'd you think? Hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)


	18. Alchemy

Chapter 18- Alchemy

"Hey, pet Muggle!" a voice behind Ed called as he was en route to detention.

He turned to find Malfoy, sneer in place, wand ready for action. Ed faced the boy empty-handed and not very confident because of it, having left his wand in the dorm for the festivities; he hadn't thought he'd need it since he had _intended_ on ditching detention.

"You're not too tough without Potty and his losers, are you?" Malfoy goaded, "I can do a list of terrible things to you with my wand and you can't do anything; a mud-blood like you doesn't deserve to be in this school!" Malfoy crept closer and his sneer broadened as his quarry retreated to keep the distance equal.

"The way I beat you up last time didn't give you much of a reputation," Ed ventured to buy time.

"That's only because you had help! You've humiliated me for the last time!" Malfoy seethed, his grin instantly returning, "So now I'm due for some revenge. I just learned the Cruciatus Curse and I'm itching to try it out on some weak bastard. Do you even _know_ what it does?" Ed shook his head, still trying to keep the conversation going until something actually happened. "It causes your _whole body_ to throb in _excruciating _pain," Malfoy explained maliciously, "Kind of like being thrown into fire, only fifty times _worse_."

"Is that all? I thought you were going to kill me," Edward joked, however he was getting nervous; this curse didn't sound like too much fun. He'd been toasted by Mustang before, and it hadn't been enjoyable. Where was Hermione? Where was _anybody_?

"I could if I liked, but for now I'll give you a demonstration. _Crucio_!"

Edward tried to dodge the red blast, but no matter which way he feinted, the crimson light followed him, finally embedding itself in his chest and exploding in pain. Ed dropped to the ground in a spasm, clutching himself and thrashing left and right due to the numbing, piercing, pain, akin to getting automail attached to every inch of his spinal chord. He let out a scream, though he could barely hear as his pain echoed throughout the hall. It ebbed after what felt like decades and Edward was left gasping for air, drenched in sweat, and trembling in agony.

Despite the immense fatigue that filled him now, he pushed himself to his feet and got into a fighting stance. The top of his leg where the prosthetic limb was attached burned as the nerve clusters reacted. He nearly met the floor again, but was able to hold his ground. Malfoy was smirking and still holding his wand out.

"Not enough to keep you on your knees, huh? Damn, I guess I have to try again. _Crucio_!"

The blast shot out from the end of the wand once more, but this time Edward didn't try and dodge it. There wasn't much he could do in the first place, given he knew next to nothing about magic and his alchemy didn't work. Even so, he clapped his hands, more on reflex than false hope, and slammed them to the ground, wishing for a miracle. To his great surprise, a wall of stone rose in front of him, immersed in blue light as the knowledge ran through his brain. The curse bounced off the shield and ricocheted back to its owner, causing Malfoy to let out a blood-curdling scream.

As Ed stared in wonder at his hands, Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed around the corner with their wands raised, the first two looking as if the sobering charm had done its glory. They looked from Malfoy to their friend and then to the stone wall in confusion.

"What happened, are you alright?" Hermione cried, placing a hand on Ed's shoulder as the threesome ran over. Ed looked up at them with a smile quickly spreading across his face.

"My alchemy works," he said incredulously, feeling giddy. The smile grew and he stood. "MY ALCHEMY WORKS!" he yelled to the ceiling, punching the air in triumph, "I CAN GO _HOME_!"

He broke into laughter and knelt next to his masterpiece. He clapped his hands with enthusiasm and returned the floor to its original form. When he rose again there were tears of joy streaming down his face.

"I can go home to Al," he repeated in a whisper, as if the utterance would take it away from him.

"What happened?" Hermione asked again, more for the group than herself. Ed told them about Malfoy and they reacted with rage.

"He did _WHAT_!" Harry bellowed, rushing toward the boy who was still on the ground, panting in pain.

"Harry, no!" Hermione screamed as he grabbed Malfoy by the lapels and drew out his wand.

"Since when have you been using the Cruciatus Curse!" the boy-who-lived demanded, shaking in anger, "Are you working for Voldemort! Answer me!" Malfoy merely blinked in silence and fear.

"Harry, this is for Dumbledore to do, not us!" Hermione protested, pulling on Harry's robes to convince him.

"She's right Harry, we could get him expelled!" Ron agreed. Reluctantly, Harry let the boy down and the four of them made their way to Dumbledore's office, dragging Malfoy halfway there despite his efforts to escape.

Professor McGonagall was waiting for the five of them at the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Her brows were angled sharply inward and a deep frown was set on her face; it was obvious she was angry.

"Hurry along," she said harshly, "Dumbledore is waiting."

They did as they were told, following her into the office to find the Headmaster, Professor Snape, and another man in a long brown coat and square glasses. Edward smiled and nodded toward him. Harry, Ron, and Hermione glanced back and forth between the two, questions on their tongues. Malfoy missed the exchange and was now standing as far away from Dumbledore as possible, looking deathly afraid.

"Please, sit down," Dumbledore bade politely, despite the edge of anger in his eyes when they passed to Draco.

"But what's Professor Hoenheim doing here?" Harry asked, unable to hold his curiosity any longer.

"Obviously he's here because Malfoy just committed a dark art, and that falls under _his_ expertise," Hermione said.

"Actually, Hoenheim is my first name," the professor corrected, reintroducing himself, "Hoenheim Elric."

"Hey, isn't that Ed's…" Ron trailed off and noticed the resemblance. "Bloody hell! You're related?" he blurted at once.

"Mr. Weasley! Five points from Gryffindor for language!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed sharply.

"Shall we continue?" Dumbledore interrupted, turning to Edward, "Is it true Mr. Malfoy used the Cruciatus Curse on you?"

"Yes," Ed replied, "It would have been twice if I hadn't blocked it."

"You mean—!" Hoenheim began to exclaim, but Dumbledore waved him quiet.

"Professor Hoenheim, I'm sure you're angry about this event but if you will give me a chance, I will take the necessary action," the Headmaster said.

Hoenheim shut his mouth, realizing his superior had saved him from releasing information that was to be kept secret. He nodded and silently bade Dumbledore to continue.

"Now then, Mr. Malfoy, may I see your wand?"

Malfoy passed the wooden rod to the headmaster with a shaking hand. Dumbledore flicked his own, muttering "Prior Incantatus" and a blast of red light appeared along with a bellow of _'Crucio!'_. Dumbledore nodded and put the wand in his desk drawer for safekeeping.

"Draco Malfoy," he declared in a powerful, authoritative voice, "As headmaster I cannot allow a student who practices an Unforgivable Curse in my school. I expect you to be packed and ready for departure by tomorrow morning." Dumbledore now turned to Snape. "Severus, if you will keep close watch on Mr. Malfoy until the Ministry of Magic can take over."

Snape nodded and Malfoy gulped. Teacher escorted ex-student out of the office, leaving Edward, Harry, Ron, and Hermione alone with the two professors and the headmaster. Professor McGonagall departed shortly after, with instructions to send Malfoy's wand, by owl, to the Minister of Magic. Dumbledore then turned to the remaining matters.

"Edward, would you prefer it if Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss. Granger left?" he asked after a moment. The threesome looked toward their friend and pleaded silently with wide eyes.

"No, they can stay," Ed sighed, "They already know most of everything anyway." Hoenheim looked alarmed for a second but then calmed as Edward shook his head, letting him know it was all right.

"Um, how'd you find out about Malfoy so quickly?" Harry asked suddenly, before the headmaster could say anything.

"That would be the portraits—they can be great messengers. They also told me Edward did something rather spectacular…" he looked toward the young alchemist expectantly. Ed's face brightened into another widespread smile.

"My alchemy works," he told them, turning to his father, "We can go _home_!"

"But I thought—this side of the Gate—it's not possible!" Hoenheim stuttered in protest, "The death energy from this place is exchanged for alchemy in Amestris. That's the equivalent exchange. Where's the energy coming from _here_? Where's the equivalent exchange!"

"I don't know," Ed replied, repeating something his father once said, "But I accept what I see. _Watch_."

The Fullmetal Alchemist clapped his hands and transmuted the chair he was occupying into a miniature, wooden sculpture of Hogwarts. Hoenheim looked delighted while Ed's friends looked thoroughly amazed; Dumbledore merely raised his eyebrows in interest.

"Incredible," Hoenheim praised, "the detail is spectacular too; I can even see the individual shingles on the roof. You haven't forgotten anything in the past few months, I see."

Edward beamed and transmuted his masterpiece back into a chair and sat down once more.

"So…how do you intend to get home?" Hoenheim asked, "Even if we can pass through the Gate, we need a way to summon it, plus the proper payment to make it through in one piece."

"I know," Ed replied, somewhat taken aback for forgetting, "I'll figure something out…"

"However, tonight is not the night to do so," Dumbledore intervened, "Goodnight boys, Miss Granger, Professor."

The headmaster nodded to each, a signal for them to depart to their dwellings. On the way there, after the Professor had left for his room, Hermione couldn't help speaking her mind.

"Ed, are you sure you're all right?" the Cruciatus Curse…the pain is said to drive people _mad_…"

"I'm fine," Ed assured her flatly, his face following the drop in his voice, "It was nothing, compared to…other things…"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione could do nothing but watch as their friend was dragged into another one of his dreadful memories, a time where he had said something almost identical to what he just did.

A/n- this is actually the first thing I wrote in this story. My apologies to anyone who likes Malfoy, but the shoe fits.


	19. Scry For A Way

A/n- this ch. uses a topic I had from another fic that's a cross between fma and Artemis Fowl. I haven't posted it, but holler if you're interested and I'll work on that. The topic is Transportation Circles and the name of the guy is from the second fma game. The game uses transportation circles as well. The idea was cool, so I borrowed it. I own only the game, not the idea or the rights to it.

Chapter 19- Scry For A Way

That night, Edward tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep with the knowledge that he was a hair's breath away from his destination. Finally, after two hours of restlessness, he sat up and gathered his wand, journal, and pencil and made his way down to the now empty common room. He settled down in front of the fireplace and tried to recall a time where he was reading a particular interesting book. However, he remembered being bored.

A younger version of himself appeared, holding a thick, leather-bound book. It was odd watching himself; he still hadn't gotten used to it.

"_Transportation Circles by Arlen…damn. I can't read his last name…" _the fifteen-year-old Ed cursed.

In the real world, Ed jotted this information down, waiting hungrily for more. His younger self opened the book and began reading. Ed read over his shoulders, taking notes when he deemed necessary; it was a good thing he'd gotten faster at reading these past years, or else he wouldn't have been able to keep up.

Edward waited until he had completely exhausted himself before breaking the connection, to the point where beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and into his eyes. He had spent nearly half an hour in his past and had covered chapter one on how to transport objects and people with alchemy. This time when he went to bed, he was able to fall asleep immediately.

Before he did, he returned his things to their places and smiled to himself as he reviewed the day in his mind. 'Soon,' he thought, 'Soon I'll be ready.'

He rose late the next morning, as it was Saturday, and collected his things so he could go straight to the library after breakfast. There he picked up where he left off, resting from time to time, but all in all wearing himself out before stopping.

This pattern repeated until Sunday night, when he suddenly realized he'd neglected to do his homework. It was past midnight when he dragged his weary body to bed.

This new process of gathering information by means of scrying was slow and tedious. By the time Ed had finished the book, nearly two weeks had passed, in which his academic life took a severe drop. Many of the teachers confronted him about his various nap sessions during class and the messy and sometimes incomplete homework assignments. He could do nothing but apologize and make excuses for his behavior, leaving the truth only for his father.

Harry approached him two days after he had finished, finding his friend sleeping on the notes he had been rereading and analyzing. He nudged Ed awake, concern flitting through his thoughts.

"You okay, mate?" he asked once Ed was up.

"Yeah, I've just been…working a lot lately," Edward replied, wiping the fatigue from his eyes, "So, what's up?"

"People have been asking me about starting up the DA again. It's a club that teaches and practices Defense Against the Dark Arts. I wanted to know if you'd join," Harry explained.

"Don't we have a class for that?" Ed pointed out.

"Well, no offense, but…your dad sort of sucks at teaching."

"He's not exactly an expert on magic," Ed defended.

"I know, but it's still important for us to learn. It's not entirely your dad's fault either; we've only had a decent teacher _once_ in the six years we've taken the class. Compared to other years, we're still beginners."

A minute passed in which Harry waited for an answer and Ed stared into empty space, millions of thoughts coinciding with each other, getting him lost within them; most of them didn't even concern the matter at hand. Finally, he spoke up.

"Thanks, but magic's not for me. Learning it would only be a w—"

"I was hoping you could teach us Alchemy!" Harry blurted, "If you wouldn't mind."

"Sorry, but…I _do_ mind. Trying to teach magicians the concept of equivalent exchange would only frustrate everyone, including me. Why would you want to learn anyway? With magic you can—"

"I know; magic can go against your law. But…we can only duel from a distance. Once we loose our wand in a battle, we're like helpless Muggles. With Voldemort back and gaining power, he's bound to try attacking Hogwarts, the one place he could never touch. Succeeding would ensure his rule; that's why I need every advantage I can get."

"You're planning on fighting him?" Edward asked in disbelief, remembering all the stuff he'd heard and read about the Dark Lord, "Are you _insane_!"

"Yeah, probably," Harry replied, "But I'm the only one who can beat him. It's what my prophecy says."

"Prophecy," the alchemist stated skeptically, "You believe in that crap?"

"I dunno…but the important part is that Voldemort does. Last year he tried to use me to get to the prophecy, but it didn't work…" he stopped for a moment as a particular heartache returned, before taking a deep breath and continuing," My godfather died because I walked straight into the trap he set for me."

"What happened?" Ed asked, curiosity and sympathy at the forefront of his mind.

"He fell through the Veil…there's no way out," Harry replied solemnly.

"I'll teach you alchemy," Ed decided after a moment, "And anyone who wants to learn in this club of yours."

"This isn't pity for telling you my sob story, is it?" Harry teased.

"Nah, it's equivalent exchange for giving me important information."

"Important…how so?" Harry asked in confusion.

"This Veil of yours sounds very interesting—very much like the Gate," replied Ed, flashing a mysterious grin.

"Right," Harry agreed in good humor, "Equivalent exchange."

Edward nodded and returned his attention to his notes, feeling as if the conversation was over. However, Harry stayed, watching his friend slip into the world of science. A few minutes passed, in which the boy-who-lived struggled with his curiosity, but in the end it eventually won.

"So…what is that?" he finally asked.

"Notes on how to transport things with alchemy," Ed supplied.

"Is that what you've been doing?" Harry inquired, "I mean…you've been so exhausted lately…do you think it'll work? Can you really _transport_ yourself home?"

"No," Ed's answer was blunt, "Without something equivalent to my life, the Gate will not let me through."

"You need the Philosopher's Stone," Harry concluded.

"It would make things _much _easier," Ed admitted, "But I'm not even sure I can transport things outside this world, let alone myself."

"What will you do then?"

"Try and send my journal to Al," Ed supplied, "If it works, countless questions that keep circulating in my mind will be answered. If it doesn't work…I'll loose my only lead, as well as a _lot_ of valuable and even dangerous information that could end up in _anyone's _hands, either good _or_ evil. If I fail…Al will never know I survived…"

His last words hung in the air, creating an extreme gloom around the two. Harry could hear the plea in his friend's voice, the one that hoped endlessly for a positive turnout. It was so deafening it caused his mind to think desperately for a way to help; he found one.

"There's a simple spell that can copy your journal. I could do it, if you like," he offered, the panic in him ceasing as Ed immediately brightened.

"That'd be _perfect_," he replied appreciatively.

Minutes later, the spell was done and now two identical journals lay side by side on the table.

"Thanks," Edward said, knowing he was welcome from the smile he received, "So…about this club…when's the first meeting?"

"Tomorrow night," Harry answered firmly, "The idea was to start as soon as possible, for obvious reasons…"

"Because I'll be leaving soon," Ed clarified.

"Yeah."

A/n- just to clarify, this fic takes place in the sixth book. There were a few times in the beginning I where I might have made an error, because at first it was going to be the fifth. Gomen nasai, kudasai. (excuse me, please) The spell Harry uses is made up, which is why I didn't provide an incantation. But I figured the spell had to exist from the simplicity of it.


	20. The Room of Requirement

Chapter 20- The Room of Requirement

"So where is this place?" Edward asked as he followed Harry through the hallways of Hogwarts, "You said it was secret, but Dumbledore undoubtedly knows the entire castle, not to mention the caretaker and other teachers. Do you hide it with magic? It can't be easy shielding dozens of people throwing jinxes and counter curses around—"

"Hey Ed," Harry interrupted in humor, "Your scientific mind is showing. You don't have to analyze everything, you know," he joked, "I'll _tell_ you where it is."

"Sorry," Edward said sheepishly, more embarrassed than looking to apologize, "Sometimes I let my intellect take over…"

"More like all the time," Harry corrected, "Anyway, we use a room called the 'Room of Requirement'; it's a place that only appears when you walk past it with what you need on your mind. When you do, a door appears and the room accommodates your wishes," Harry explained.

"Hey, I've used it before," Ed realized.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, when I first got here," Ed told him, "I got lost and ended up shouting that I needed a map. Next thing I know, a door had appeared and inside I found a map of Hogwarts."

"Huh, neat," Harry said, "Oh, we're here."

Ed looked around, but couldn't see how Harry could tell _this_ hallway apart from the scores of hallways just like it; there was no distinct indication that another room existed behind these walls. That is, not until Harry walked past a certain spot, muttering under his breath. Instantly, a door grew out of the wall, not ceasing to amaze Ed, even though he'd known what to expect.

"Hold on…" he said suddenly, an idea coming to him, "You said it gives you whatever you need, right? So…couldn't I just walk past this room and ask for the missing pages to that book? Or better yet, the Philosopher's Stone?"

"I dunno…" Harry replied, "The book perhaps, but I doubt you could get the Philosopher's Stone; it doesn't exist as of now. It was destroyed, remember?"

"Right…but I'll still check it out," Ed concluded, his mind millions of miles—worlds—away from where he was standing.

Harry shrugged and they went in. A few people had arrived by now: Luna, Neville, Seamus and Ginny, but the rest were still on the way. Ron and Hermione arrived six minutes later, at the proper interval the members had decided upon. The plan was to enter in pairs every ten minutes, but because Edward and Harry had delayed, the plan had been disrupted a little; it didn't matter since no unwelcome being showed up.

Once everyone had arrived, Harry was pushed unwillingly to the front of the room to make a speech, but about what he had no idea. Therefore the first few seconds of his being in the spotlight were silent.

"Uh, is everyone ready to start?" he asked finally, a bit lamely in his opinion.

He was met with a collage of answers, all of which were affirmative. Harry nodded and tried to think of something intelligent to say next.

"I don't know if you noticed, but the room's a bit different tonight. That's because this meeting we won't be needing our wands. Ed here is going to be teaching us something that could save our lives from now until…Christmas probably. So, uh, keep an open mind."

He nodded to Ed, who took his place at the front of the room, wondering how he should start. 'With a demonstration, I guess,' he thought.

"Does any of you know what you'd do if you lost your wand in a battle," he asked as an introduction, "and a powerful curse, say the killing curse, was coming straight for you?"

He was met with a roomful of silence; the members of the DA shifted uncomfortably and some cleared their throats. A few muttered, "Dodge it," but Edward shook his head.

"Dodging a curse is tricky because if the wizard is paying attention, he or she can direct the attack. So it's valid to say each and every one of you would die if that happened."

Many of the members gulped at this blunt realization. Ed knew it was harsh, but he wasn't here to teach sensitively; alchemy wasn't for the faint of heart. He decided now was the time for the demonstration, so he took his wand from his robes, showed it to everyone briefly, and then tossed it aside.

"You," he said, pointing to Neville, "Throw the worst curse or jinx you know at me."

"Are you m-mad?" the boy stuttered.

"Pretend I am the enemy. Would you hesitate to harm the enemy when he or she is open? Or would you let them gain the advantage and do you in first?" Ed asked sternly.

"I-I'd get them when they're open," Neville answered, sounding unsure.

"Good. I'm not about to get any more open than I am now, so hit me," Ed ordered.

"B-but you're not—" Neville started.

"Your parents are decedents of Snape! Now hit me!" Edward interrupted.

"B-bu—"

"You're a little mama's boy with no backbone! I've plucked hairs that are smarter than you from the back of my neck! Are you going to let me insult you like the _pussy_ you are, or are you going to attack me!"

"_F-fine_! _Stupefy_!"

The spell sped toward Edward in a bright red beam. The alchemist let the blast come as close as he dared to impress his audience, then dropped to the floor with a piece of chalk in his hand, etched a rough transmutation circle into it, and activated it within seconds. By the time the attack was a foot away, a stone wall shielded Ed from harm. The blast hit the rock block and bounced off, lodging itself somewhere in the ceiling. The astonished faces of the occupants in the room caused Ed to grin as he stepped out from behind his creation.

"_That_ is how you stop an attack when you are wandless," he said, "It is a science called alchemy that follows a strict set of laws, the first and most important of which is the law of equivalent exchange. You cannot create objects out of nowhere; the ingredients have to be present to make alchemy work. Is that clear?"

Nods went around the room, most of which were hesitant. Ed sighed, knowing he failed to get the point across.

"Where did that come from?" he asked, pointing toward his block.

"It came out of the ground, right?" Hermione asked.

"In simple terms, yes. The stone I used to form this wall came from the stone surrounding it. See how the floor is curved upward at the bottom? That is the proof that equivalent exchange is present. However, what would have happened if I made the wall too thick, or too tall?" he asked next.

This time he was answered with shrugs. He could see that Hermione had the answer, but he motioned for her to keep quite and let the others figure it out.

"Would…the floor would collapse," Neville spoke up.

"Correct. The wall would be too heavy for the floor to support, or it would use too much of the floor for it to handle. Either way, the point of the block is eliminated by you dying from the fall. Therefore, when you perform a transmutation, you must not only think of what you are trying to create, but also about your surroundings. Now, I want all of you to break into pairs; by the end of the meeting I expect you to have accomplished this simple transmutation."

While Ed turned his back to his audience to draw the transmutation circle he had used on the chalkboard, he heard mutterings about how his transmutation "sure didn't _look_ simple". He frowned subconsciously; it was going to be a long night.

During the duration of the lesson, Edward couldn't help noticing certain patterns among his students, namely that the more powerful wizards of the class were more successful at alchemy. It made him wonder if alchemy on _this_ side of the Gate was powered by magical energy instead of death energy; he excited at the thought that perhaps alchemy drew from magical power in Amestris as well.

As he mused, Ed walked around the room and helped those who needed it, having to repeat many times that one had to concentrate when performing a transmutation. Twice, the floor nearly gave out, but Ed was able to fix it before any lasting damage was done. He refrained from clapping his hands and transmuting though, not feeling up to explaining the story behind it.

Amazingly enough, by the end of the meeting, each and every DA member had lived up to Edward's expectations and returned to their dorms feeling a lot more confident about winning a duel.

When everyone had left, excluding his friends, Ed let his eyes skim over the uneven floor in front of him. He had instructed everyone to return their creations so that the floor looked unharmed, but it was difficult to reprimand them when they'd tried their best. With a sigh, he clapped his hands and smoothed out the wrinkles.

"There's something I don't get," Ron spoke up, "You said transmutation circles were necessary, yet how come you don't use them?"

"It's because I've seen the Gate," Ed replied shortly, "and the truths of alchemy that lie behind it."

"How do you see it then? 'Cause it'd be _much_ easier to clap hands—" Ron began.

"Don't try," Ed warned, "It's not worth it. The only way to summon the Gate is by means of human transmutation, which is _strictly_ and _justly_ forbidden."

"Then, when you…" Harry insinuated.

"Yeah," Ed replied in understanding.


	21. Trial and Error

A/n- sumimasen minne (sorry everyone) if it's been a while since I've updated. It's been busy since school is starting soon and I've been familiarizing myself with my livejournal account. Check it out if you want; I will most likely post news on my fic there. My username is Regaime. Big surprise there. Other than that, I've been reading Dominic Deegan, a webcomic, nonstop and now that I've finished, things should move along faster. My promise still stands. Enjoy! This is one of my fav chapters so far!

Chapter 21- Trial and Error

The following afternoon as soon as it was lunchtime, Edward headed in the direction of the Room of Requirement and after referring to his map to find the correct hall, he walked past it, muttering what he needed under his breath as Harry had done the night before. The door appeared, but the room it opened to was empty. He frowned, only in slight disappointment; he hadn't expected to find the Philosopher's Stone so easily.

He closed the door and repeated the process, this time asking for a complete copy of the book he needed. Sure enough, when he entered the room, he found what he'd asked for lying on a table in its center.

Ed rushed down the hall after viewing the pages to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. At this time, his father should be free from classes.

"Dad! Dad!" he yelled through the closed and locked door to his father's office.

"Edward…?" came a voice from behind him.

The alchemist turned to see his father coming down the hall and shifted the book to the opposite hand in anticipation.

"I have something to tell you," he stated, looking past the man in front of him and down the hall in sudden caution, "in private."

"Of course," Hoenheim answered, unlocking the office door and escorting his son inside.

As soon as the two sat down, Ed blurted out what he had to say; the excitement was too much to keep in check.

"I found the book," he said, a giddy feeling rising in him as he waited for his father's reaction.

"The book…?" Hoenheim replied in confusion.

"The one I told you about that had the pages missing," Edward supplied, confused as well, but for a different reason; his father wasn't usually one to forget things.

"Ah, of course. Sorry, I've been…preoccupied lately," the Professor apologized.

"It's okay," Edward said, brushing it off, "Anyway, I used the Room of Requirement to get a complete copy of the book and it _worked_!" he paused, took a breath for the next part, and in his excitement, lost himself in the possibilities now open to him, "I know how to make the Philosopher's Stone!"

"Are you serious?" his father blurted in disbelief, "How—!"

"It explains everything in here," Ed replied, referring to the book, "and the best part is that the technique isn't the _same_! There's _another_ way to create the Stone _without_ sacrificing human lives and using _magical energy_ instead! See, it's right here."

He opened the book to the marked page and passed it to his father, who read it aloud.

"Creating the Philosopher's Stone is extremely difficult, even for the most skilled wizards. Many have died trying and those who didn't either failed to create one or were nearly killed. The Philosopher's Stone acts as a magical battery, a storing place for a wizard's magical energy that can be used later for their wants and needs. It takes an immense amount of magical energy to be put forth into a sizable jewel that can withstand immense amounts of pressure and heat. Rubies have been found to be the most effective in doing so, creating the nickname 'Red Stone', or 'Crimson Stone'. When finished, the substance is loosely structured and can take the form of a liquid or solid. From this, the 'Elixir of Life' or 'Crimson Elixir' can be made to grant one eternal life, however it has to be consumed on a regular basis or the user will revert to their human years, many times causing death from prolonged use. It can also be used to channel magical power when the user needs massive amounts of magic to perform advanced spells."

Hoenheim finished and his eyebrows rose to meet his forehead in amazement. Ed beamed from his place across from him; hearing the passage again had heightened his enthusiasm on the matter.

"All we need is a ruby—with that we can go _home_!" he exclaimed, then noticing his father's sudden frown, "It won't be a problem, will it?" I mean…you've been getting paid…if worse comes to worse, I can just _transmute_ something of value."

"Of course not," Hoenheim replied with a grin, "There'll be no problem. By the end of the week I should have a ruby."

"Excellent," Edward stated, getting up, "I'll see you later; there's something I have to do."

He exited the office and hurried in the direction of the portal hole. When he'd retrieved his journal, stopping to give Alphonse some food, he set out again for the Room of Requirement. He arrived in the correct corridor easier this time, repeating the routine he'd done less than an hour ago.

This time when he opened the door, he met an almost vacant room, save for a box of chalk on the floor near the far wall. Ed set to work drawing the transmutation circle he needed to send his journal across dimensions.

When he finished, he scrutinized every last detail of the circle, knowing if one angle was off or one line slightly uneven, all his efforts would be in vain. The fact that he could always try again convinced him to set the leather volume in the middle of the circle and press his hands to its surface.

He concentrated, closing his eyes as the blinding blue light appeared and willed the alchemy to obey him. When he opened them, the journal had vanished.

With his hands shaking in anxiety, Edward reached into his robes and drew out his wand, releasing the familiar feeling of brotherly love into it.

Al appeared, hunched over a book on his desk with concentration in his soft brown eyes. Ed sighed in defeat; the journal was not there. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to pull away and let the image disintegrate. He kept watching, hoping, waiting for the journal to appear suddenly in a flash of blue light.

Minutes passed; sweat and strain collected on Ed's face. The transmutation had taken most of his energy; there wasn't much time left. The minutes morphed into half an hour and still there was no change. He was having trouble breathing now and a headache was slowly creeping from the base of his neck to his forehead. Ed refused to let go; there was still hope.

In Amestris, Al was beginning to fall asleep on his book, as he had the second time Ed had scryed him, when suddenly Winry appeared in the doorway. Ed's heart dropped when he saw her hands were empty, but the frantic look on her face caused him to hang on; something was happening.

"_Winry…?"_ Al questioned as she burst into the room.

"_Al, come quick! It's…I don't know what, just come!" _she said breathlessly, almost incomprehensively.

"_What is it?" _Alphonse asked in alarm, following her to the kitchen.

"_I told you, I don't know!"_ she exclaimed, coming to a stop before the kitchen table, _"There, see? It just came out of nowhere all of a sudden in a flash of blue light!"_

"_Blue light…"_ Al pondered, picking up the leather journal, Ed's journal, off the table and opening it.

His eyes skimmed the inside cover feverishly and he froze almost instantly, speechless.

"_Al? What is it?"_ Winry asked, trying to see over his shoulder, _"Alphonse!"_

"_I don't believe it…"_ he whispered, his eyes filling up with tears, _"It's from brother…"_

"_Ed? Ed sent this? **How**?"_ Winry blurted in astonishment.

"_With alchemy…somehow…" _Al replied, flipping through the pages to the last entry, the one Ed had written this very afternoon.

"_What does it say?" _Winry asked eagerly.

"_It says, 'Dear Al, if you are reading this now it means my test worked and I am leaps closer to coming home. At this moment, I am watching you with a magical technique called scrying; the earlier pages will explain. Although you can't see me, I'm here, but I don't have much time. If there's something you'd like to say, now would be a good time. I'll see you soon; I promise. Love, Ed'…"_

"_What does he mean, he's **watching** us?" _Winry asked, exasperated and confused.

"_I'll figure it out later," _Al replied, thinking hard now and mumbling, _"Something to say…"_

"_I've got something to say," _Winry stated suddenly, _"How about, get your ass back here, **pronto** or else!"_

"_Yeah,"_ Al agreed, _"But without the pronto part. Don't let your anxiousness to come home make you careless. Take your time and do it right."_

"_This is where the 'or else' part fits in,"_ Winry added.

"_Yeah,"_ Al repeated, _"That and we miss you."_

Edward broke the connection with joyful tears in his eyes, but he lost consciousness due to fatigue before he was able to wipe them away.

He awoke some time later, finding himself lying in a bed in the hospital wing. For a moment, he was confused as to how he got there, but then Harry appeared at the bedside.

"It's about time," he said, sounding angry but looking concerned, "I didn't know _what_ to think when I found you dead still on the floor!"

"But…how did you know I was there?" Ed asked.

"I used my map, sort of like the one _you _have, only mine shows the location of people as well. When I didn't see you on it, I thought, _bullocks_, he left and didn't even say goodbye, but then I decided to check the Room of Requirement, just in case. It was a bloody good thing I _did_ too!"

"Sorry…" Ed mumbled, "I used too much energy, that's all…"

"It's fine, just…promise me you'll at _least_ say farewell when it's time, okay?"

"Sure," Ed replied, "So, about that map…can I see it?"

"Out of curiosity or because you have mischief in mind?" Harry asked in good humor, "It's a map for troublemakers, you know."

"Then I'm more than eligible," Ed pointed out with a shifty grin.

Harry laughed and dug the map out from his robes, tapping it with his wand and saying the incantation to activate it.

"Neat," Ed admired as the blank parchment morphed into an intricate map, "Hey, here we are," he said, pointing to two pairs of footsteps, "and there's Ron and Hermione walking past the Defense Against the Dark Arts room."

"Hey Ed, someone's in your dad's office," Harry said, furrowing his brow.

"Seriously," Ed asked, shifting his eyes to the pair of feet and freezing in horror as he read it out loud, "Envy…"

"What kind of a name is E—" Harry started, interrupted by Ed frantically throwing back the covers of the bed and jumping out of it, "Hey, what's the matter?"

"I know Envy; my Dad's in trouble," Ed stated swiftly, rushing out the door.

"Ed, your dad's not in the office," Harry informed him, running to catch up.

"Where is he then?" Ed asked as they both ran toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts room.

"In one of the dungeons," Harry said.

Edward abruptly changed course, Harry not far behind, trying to concentrate on running and talking at the same time. Faintly, he heard Madame Pomfrey yelling after them to return.

"Listen, Envy is the Homunculus that killed me. He can take any form, so it's nearly impossible to tell who's who. That and…it's nearly impossible to kill him."

"I remember now," Harry said, "You wrote in your journal that Envy was your half-brother."

"He's no brother of mine!" Ed ground out bitterly, "I'll see to that _bastard's_ demise _personally_!"

"You're seriously going to kill him?" Harry exclaimed.

"You're planning on killing Voldemort, aren't you?" Ed pointed out.

"W-Well, yeah, but—" Harry stuttered, not quite knowing what to say.

"I told you already; Envy killed me. It's that _bastard's _fault I'm here! _He_ did this to me…and Al!"

There was nothing else Harry could say; the hatred Ed felt toward his half-brother was the same hatred he felt toward the one who took his parents from him. Ed's feelings of revenge were stronger than his though, because unlike him, Ed remembered what had happened. For Harry, the death of his parents held no _real_ memories, only facts he knew were true and the occasional bad dream; what Ed had was _much_ more real. Harry wasn't able to ponder the matter any longer, as they'd already arrived at the dungeons.

"Dad? Are you here?" Ed called, clearly worried about his father's health; he wouldn't have believed this to be true a couple years ago.

"Ed…ward…?" came a faint call from somewhere deep in the tomb-like maze.

"_Damnit_! I can't see _anything_!" Ed cursed, "If only I had the components to make a light…" he muttered.

"_Lumos_," Harry said, a blue light forming at the tip of his wand, "Electricity doesn't work in Hogwarts. Hermione's repeated that enough times for me to remember."

"Oh, right," Ed replied, referring to the spell and copying it with his own wand.

They used the map to locate Hoenheim and found him a short while later with his hands chained separately to the wall so he couldn't transmute. His face was heavily bruised and dried blood trailed from his nose to his beard, but other than that he seemed unharmed. However, his state still sent Ed into a panic.

"Dad! Are you all right?" he asked anxiously, rushing to erase the bonds that held him prisoner.

"Ed…I'm fine but, how…how did you find out about…?"

"You mean Envy? Harry here has a pretty handy map," Ed answered with a relieved smile, then becoming serious, "How long have you been here?"

"I've no idea—hours maybe," Hoenheim sighed, "Envy captured me Tuesday afternoon."

"That's good then; it's Tuesday night," Harry informed the Professor.

"No, it isn't," Ed disagreed, talking to his father, "I went to your office this afternoon looking for you. It must have been Envy; he was coming from the direction of the dungeons and was acting out of character. Everything I told him is dangerous for us; he knows I can make the Philosopher's Stone."

"Philosopher's—you can—" Hoenheim stuttered.

"Yeah," Ed nodded.

"We need to hurry then," his father stated gravely, "Envy mentioned working for someone…someone who is interested in the Philosopher's Stone."

"Voldemort," Harry concluded.

"You're right—we need to hurry, before Envy has a chance to contact Voldemort. Let's go," Edward directed, the authority of a State Alchemist in his voice.

"What will you do, Edward?" his father asked as they exited the dungeons, "Silence Envy? There's no way to kill him; his remains are lost somewhere in Amestris."

"Well, I thought—maybe—"

"We need a plan," Hoenheim interrupted, "Not only is he imperishable, he also has my wand. I doubt he can perform magic, but there's always a chance he can."

"Harry, can you paralyze him?" Ed asked, a plan already forming.

"Yeah, no problem."

"Then the first chance you get, let him have it—no matter _who_ he's impersonating."

Harry nodded in understanding and they continued to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom in silence, each thinking deeply about what was about to take place. When they arrived, Hoenheim hid around the corner while Ed and Harry knocked on the office door. Envy appeared as the Professor, looking tired and wearing a frown.

"Hey, I know it's late," Edward said apologetically, "But something happened and…we need your help."

Ed made sure his words sounded genuine, despite the rage that boiled beneath the surface. He stepped aside to let Harry in first when Envy motioned for them to enter.

"What is it?" he asked, unable to hide all of his annoyance.

"It's my wand," Harry said, "It won't work—I think it's broken inside. Can you fix it?" he asked, taking it out of his robes.

"Can't _you_ do it, Ed?" Envy asked, suspicious at once.

"_You're_ the one who said you knew how they work and wouldn't tell me," Edward replied calmly, "Have you forgotten already, _dad_?"

The gleam in Ed's eyes gave him away; that and a particular sarcasm in his words that Envy could not ignore.

"Heh, smart as usual, pipsqueak; how did you _possibly_ find out?" Envy growled, rushing at the two in the midst of transforming into his favorite form.

"_Petrificus Totalis_!" Harry bellowed.

As Envy went rigid and fell to the floor, Ed clapped his hands and sent a spike up from it to pin him through the chest.

"Now," he asked coldly, "How many times will it take to kill you?"

"Is everyone all right?" came Hoenheim's voice from the door.

"Yeah; what took you so long?" Ed asked.

"I sent a message to Dumbledore. He should be here any minute."

"I see," Ed replied, turning his attention to Envy, "Do you _really_ think he's working for Voldemort?"

"Why don't we find out?" came the Headmaster's unexpected reply.

A/n- sorry for the cliff hanger. The chapter was getting kinda long. Well, you'll have to wait to find out what happens!


	22. Veritaserum

A/n- sorry if it's been a while. School's been hell lately. (cowers from precalc and ap bio) the good news for you readers is that my deadline, which was once October, has been pushed up because I had based it on the release of the FMA movie. Now the movie is releasing November 14th, so I renew my promise that the story will be finished by that date. I say good news because before I was afraid I'd have to rush and/or leave out a certain event that will stretch the pages quite a bit. Now I have enough time not to worry and I've been writing relentlessly, mostly during driver's edu. And American lit. Enjoy!

Chapter 22- Veritaserum

Albus Dumbledore entered the room followed by Professors McGonagall and Snape, the latter of which was carrying a small vile of a completely transparent liquid.

"Thank you for coming, Headmaster," Hoenheim said in gratitude.

"Thank _you_ for trusting me enough to summon for my assistance," Dumbledore replied with a praising smile, then turning to nod toward Snape, "Severus, if you would," he said.

The potion's master nodded in return and tipped the contents of the vile into Envy's mouth. He then performed the counter curse to free him silently, keeping his wand on the captive.

"Are you working for Voldemort?" Albus asked calmly, thus starting the interrogation.

"I don't _work_ for anybody," the Homunculus spat out.

"May I, Sir?" Edward intervened, receiving a nod.

The reason Dumbledore consented so easily was beyond him, as he had expected an argument, but it raised his expectations for the man. Instead of pondering this mystery, he turned to the one at hand.

"Are you in league with Voldemort?" he reworded.

"…Yes," Envy said after struggling to keep the information sealed.

"Why are you working for him?"

"I told you, pipsqueak; I'm not a freakin' henchman."

"Did you make a deal with him?" Ed asked, ignoring the insult.

"Yes."

"What was it?"

"That I'd…give him Harry, plus a new power…" Envy ground out.

"What's in it for you?" Ed inquired further, puzzled.

"I get to see you…_humans_…suffer…and I get to kill you…and _him_," he replied, inclining his head toward Hoenheim, "After he tortures and uses you, that is."

"Is this power you promised the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Yes."

"Is Voldemort aware that _you_ harbor the Stone?"

"No."

"Interesting…" Ed mumbled to himself, continuing shortly, "Were you aware that alchemy isn't supposed to work on this side of the Gate?"

"Seems to be working fine, so it doesn't really matter, does it?" Envy smirked.

"Answer the question."

"No."

"How did you find Voldemort?"

"Evil seeks evil, I guess," Envy shrugged, "I heard rumors."

"Is that how you found _us_?"

"No."

"How did you?"

"He has many spies, I hear."

"Malfoy," Harry clarified, "and his _goons_ Crabbe and Goyle."

"Is that true?" Ed asked Envy.

"Sorry, but I'm afraid I can't answer that question. It seems that juice of yours has run dry."

"Nonsense! It should have lasted another hour or two!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed.

"On a human, maybe," Edward informed them, "But he's not human; he's a homunculus—a fake human—the result of a failed human transmutation."

"I'll teach you failure!" Envy bellowed in rage, breaking the spike that pinned him with his hands and charging at Ed, "You should have killed me _right_ the _first_ time!"

"Avada Kedavra!" Snape shouted just as the creature finished speaking.

The green blast hit Envy square in the chest, knocking him back onto the floor, dead.

"_Severus_! That was _most_ uncalled for!" McGonagall lectured.

"I agree with Minerva," Dumbledore said, "He could have told us more."

"I don't believe he's dead," Snape stated, "if what he just said is true."

"He's right; wait and see," Ed confirmed.

Three seconds passed and then Envy's eyes blinked away their dimness and an evil smirk lightened on his face.

"Damn that stings," Envy said, whistling, "That's some _serious_ juice you got there."

"Sadistic bastard," Edward grumbled under his breath.

The headmaster and Professor McGonagall were both surprised, but each handled it in the opposite way. The Transfigurations teacher could do nothing more than stutter, while Dumbledore kept silent and merely raised his eyebrows. Severus looked smug and pleased with himself for his fast thinking, however he still paid attention to the enemy and kept his wand pointed at him.

Envy cracked his neck and stretched his arms above his head as if unconcerned with his predicament. This chilled attitude in addition to his constant smirk infuriated Ed, and he wondered just _what_ they were doing standing still like _idiots_ instead of knocking the crap out of this creature. Finally, the headmaster spoke.

"Severus, if you will, keep an eye on this imposter while I inform the Ministry of Magic of this."

Snape nodded, eyes never leaving Envy as the headmaster turned now to his students.

"However grateful I am for your assistance—" he told them, eyes twinkling.

"But Sir—!" Ed began to protest, but the headmaster interrupted with a shake of his head.

"I'm quite sure we can handle this," he assured them.

They got the message and departed to their beds, laying exhausted in them; it had been a long day.

A/n- this is exciting cuz the next chapter leads up to the climax. I'll update soon, but replies would be appreciated! Thanks to everyone who did so far—I replied back to the ones I was able to. Thanks again!


	23. Dreamscape

A/n- here it is people, the chapter that spins everything for a loop. (bounces with excitement) whatever I said before was lies; this is no doubt my favorite chapter so far. Enjoy!

Chapter 23- Dreamscape

Ed awoke with a start and looked around, wondering what had roused him. Then it came again, out of the darkness; someone was screaming.

He grabbed his wand from the table next to his bed and whispered, "_Lumos_," so he could see. The rest of the dorm was waking now as he recognized from where the screams were coming and rushed to Harry's bedside to try and wake him.

Harry's bellows died as he awoke on his own in a cold sweat, Ed holding his wand above his face in alarm.

"Harry! What in—are you alright?" the alchemist asked in concern.

"I'm—I'm fine," the boy-who-lived replied, sitting up shakily, "It was—just a dream…"

"_Just _a dream?" came Ron's skeptical voice, "Sounded more like a bloody _nightmare_."

"I'll be fine," Harry assured everyone again, including the other occupants of the dorm who were now awake and watching, giving his friends a look that clearly said, 'I'll tell you in the morning'.

Thus, the night passed without further catastrophe and morphed silently into dawn.

However much Harry would have liked to forget his dream, he knew by the stern and expecting looks he received at breakfast from Ed, Ron, and Hermione, who had _somehow_ found out, there was no such chance. He tried to ignore the looks, but Ed spoke up.

"So," the alchemist pushed, "About that dream…"

"Ok," Harry said, more for the sake of readying himself than to lead into the dream, "It was about Voldemort. He was doing some sort of…ritual, I think. Wormtail was there as well—he was holding…a baby…"

Harry trailed off and shivered; the dream hadn't been pleasant the first time and it was less so talking about it.

"And?" Hermione prompted.

"There was a…_circle_," Harry paused and his eyes settled on Ed, "on the baby's stomach and then a flash of blue light."

"_Shit_," Ed cursed in a low whisper, "He summoned the Gate, didn't he?"

Harry knew the question was rhetorical, but he nodded anyway, the sick feeling in his stomach that had escalated earlier, dropping.

"I saw it. Voldemort went through it with Wormtail. All I could see was bright yellow light, and then these black…_creatures_ came out of nowhere and latched on to them. Voldemort pushed Wormtail behind him and the creatures swarmed him. Voldemort got through, but Wormtail…that's when I woke up."

Ron looked back and forth between the uneasy faces Ed, Harry and Hermione wore, skepticism in his next words.

"Well, we don't even know if this dream is _real_," he said, "I mean, since when does _Voldemort_ know _alchemy_?"

"He has a point," Hermione said, "It wouldn't be the first time…what I mean is, he could be luring us into a trap like…last year..."

"Yah," Harry's voice lowered profoundly, "I know…"

"I could look into it," Edward suggested, "See if I could scry something. Do you remember anything about the place Voldemort ended up in?"

"No, sorry, all I saw was black," Harry replied, "I think it was night."

"Let's look at this figuratively," Hermione interjected to try and keep everyone's spirits up, "Let's say Voldemort _is_ in your world. How did he ever find a way to _get_ there?"

"The question isn't how—that's easy—it's _why_. Why would _Voldemort_ want to go to _Amestris_?" Ed corrected.

"I can think of several reasons, and none of them are good news," Harry answered, shaking his head.

"Wait—how _would_ you-know-who have found out about—" Ron began in confusion.

"Mr. Elric," a deep voice interrupted.

All four turned to see Professor Hoenheim walking over, a somber look set on his face and his eyes hidden behind the reflection of his square-framed glasses.

"Yes professor?" Ed replied to keep up his father's masquerade for the rest of the Gryffindor table.

"Can I see you in my office?" Hoenheim asked, glancing briefly at his son's friends, "As well as you three?"

Several "Yes Professor" responses later, the five relocated themselves to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office and sat down to business. Hoenheim sighed and shook his head before he began, obviously worried.

"The Headmaster interrogated Envy again after you left," he told them, "We uncovered some pretty grim information, I might add."

"Hold on—what about last night?" Ron asked in clear confusion.

"Oh, right; we never told you," Harry realized, going into an explanation next.

"So then, this Envy person—_thing_—_must_ have told Voldemort how to get to Amestris," Hermione concluded.

"Right," Edward said, nodding.

"What do you mean by—" Hoenheim began, before being interrupted by Harry.

"I had a dream…it's happened before. We're not sure if it's true, but…"

"If it is, Amestris is in danger," Ed finished.

That day during lunch, after spending an entire morning worrying endlessly about Al and his friends in Amestris, not to mention Amestris in general, Ed spent the period in the Room of Requirement scrying for answers. However, he found no evidence of hardships in his hometown, Central, or East City. If Voldemort _was_ wandering the alchemic world, he was keeping a low profile.

The day ended swiftly with the foursome thinking that perhaps Voldemort _had_ been sending a trap. That is, until Harry's screams woke Ed for the second time in as many nights.

Harry was awake by the time Edward arrived by his bedside. He said nothing at first and merely grabbed Ed's wrist, looking up at him in horror as he breathed deeply.

"What is it?" Ed demanded, desperate from the way Harry stared at him.

"Voldemort is…scry…scry Al," Harry said incompletely, his voice morbidly quiet.

Ed got the message and scrambled for his wand. Calming his emotions was difficult, but he forced his fear down his throat and called upon the feeling necessary.

Al appeared, alive and well, and the anxiety dropped a notch in Ed's stomach. However, it didn't last long, for a dreadful scene was unveiling itself.

Everything was dark, besides the lantern Al held. Then a blue glow materialized in mid-air, revealing the looming face of a snake-like man.

Lieutenant Bloch stood in front of Al as a shield, armed with a gun pointing at none other than the Dark Lord himself. Ed had seen pictures of the former Tom Riddle, but the new-and-improved version seemed to have mutated into a demon-like creature; he did _not_ enjoy the sight.

Neither did he enjoy what was happening. Bloch was warning Voldemort to stay away, lest he be shot, but the Dark Lord merely smiled twistedly and advanced, holding out his wand.

Al held his hands over his ears as Bloch fired, dropping the lantern, which clattered to the stone ground; however, the bullet bounced off its target with an easily muttered charm. Voldemort's smile widened.

"_My turn,"_ he said maliciously.

A jet of green light erupted from his outstretched wand and embedded itself in Bloch's chest. The military man went rigid and fell to the ground, lifeless before he hit it.

Al cried out for the man protecting him and knelt by his side, allowing himself to grieve for an instant. Then he clapped his hands and touched the ground, forming a lance with his transmutation. He stood and faced his enemy jaw set and determined, tears lingering in his eyes.

"_What do you want?"_ he yelled, holding his weapon en garde.

"_Must I repeat myself? I already told you what I want,"_ Voldemort replied, studying the lance with a touch of humor in his cold, slitted eyes, _"Now, is that supposed to be threatening?"_

"_It can't be done!"_ Al protested, _"I told you that! I've been trying to get Brother back for months!"_

"_In that case…yes, there is no other way…"_ the Dark Lord muttered to himself, his attention jerking back to the frightened boy in front of him, _"You tell your brother he'd better find a way back here fast, lest he wants to return to a massacre!"_

Voldemort raised his wand and in a flash of blue light, Al was gone.

A/n- no angry mobs for the cliffy please—it was too dramatic to pass up. I guess I was feeling the drama when I wrote this. That whole, "Amestris is in danger" line was kinda cheesy when you think about it. Hehe.


	24. Arrival

A/n- sorry for the cliffy and the delayed update. I'M ALMOST TO 100 PAGES!!! LET'S HEAR IT!!! (cheers)

Chapter 24- Arrival

Ed stared in shock at the place Al had been standing and the image faded due to lack of concentration.

He was snapped out of it by a tremor that shook the foundations of Hogwarts. The occupants of the Gryffindor boys' dorm, being awake by now from Harry's screams and the event succeeding it, grabbed on to the closest sturdy object at hand; several collapsed anyway, including Ed, who hadn't had the time.

A minute passed, then two. Slowly and cautiously, Gryffindors made their way to the common room and sunk into couches dazed. Harry, Ron, and Ed met up with Hermione, who was in a panic from the shockwave.

"What _was_ that!?" she fretted, "I thought Hogwarts was _protected _against earthquakes and the like! I've never even _heard_ of earthquakes taking place in England before!!"

"Hermione, calm down!" Harry half-ordered, "There's something we have to tell you."

They had barely finished their story when Professor McGonagall stepped hurriedly through the portal hole.

"Edward Elric!" she called, continuing when Ed stepped forward, "Come with me."

The young alchemist followed his professor out of Gryffindor Tower and down the various halls to the Great Hall, where he found every door barred and guarded by a teacher.

McGonagall bypassed the security and motioned him in, her face troubled. He stepped through the door without her and scanned the hall in shock.

The Great Hall was a mess; Professor Flitwick was finishing fixing the windows, which seemed to have imploded during the shockwave due to the glass still littering the floor. What drew Ed's attention the most though, was the boy laying in the middle of the floor motionless, with his father and Madame Pomfrey kneeling by his side.

"Al!!"

The name slipped from his mouth on instinct as he ran to his brother, heart throbbing so much he could feel it trying to escape from his chest. The equations and techniques he used to revive his brother the last time returned on their own, feeling they were needed.

Madame Pomfrey was conjuring a stretcher when he reached the center of the hall, telling him to be quieter. He ignored her and grasped Al's limp hand, feeling tears trickling down his face. He was unaware of the stretcher levitating as the Hogwarts's nurse directed it to the Hospital Wing.

Ed was oblivious to his surroundings as he followed, hand tightly enclosing its smaller version. He didn't notice the faces of Harry, Ron, and Hermione gaping at him, nor the whispers from the other students that had gathered outside the Great Hall. He didn't even notice the faint throbbing coming from his palm.

Suddenly his hand was ripped away and he was pushed from his brother's body by a person unknown to him. His muscles protested instinctively and he pushed back, but he was too weak to oppress the being opposing him in his numb state of mind. He didn't fully come to consciousness until the being spoke.

"Edward," it said sternly, and only then did he realize the voice was his father's, "Al is going to be alright; he just needs some time."

The troubled alchemist nodded mutely and ceased his defiant struggling, allowing Hoenheim to escort him to a chair that had been placed specifically outside the closed curtains to Al's bed for him to wait. Then he watched detachedly as his father walked away, his destination unknown to him.

Waiting for Al to recover was like letting an open wound fester with disease. Passing the time became Ed's first priority; he fidgeted, he picked the lint off his magnetic black robes and he relaced his shoes. When he got bored with that, he stood up and began pacing the room, all the while thinking about all the various problems occupying his life at the moment.

He obsessed about what was happening behind the curtains blocking him from his brother, worried about what Voldemort could _possibly _want with him, fretted about how he was going to save Amestris _without_ having to become Voldemort's lackey, and wondered how the hell he was going to _get_ there in the first place.

Then his thoughts turned to Bloch's death and his uneasiness was replaced with anger; for several seconds, all he could think about was vengeance. His mind never rested on one topic for more than a few moments and instead flitted back and forth between them. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the curtains were drawn back and Madame Pomfrey stepped aside to allow him entry.

He was unaware of his feet carrying him as he rushed in, his anxiety mounting. As he met the soft, chocolate brown eyes of his brother, an unexplainable feeling rose inside him and pressed itself against his chest. Perhaps it was love, relief, or happiness, or maybe a combination of them all; he couldn't tell and to be honest he didn't exacted care at the moment because Al was about to speak.

"Hey," he said, a hint of shyness in his voice and on his smile.

Ed was at a loss for words; he had so many things to tell his brother and so many questions. He knew Al did as well, and yet he was able to contain everything with a simple salutation; for some reason it made Edward proud. He smiled back and echoed the same greeting, then pulling his brother into a long due embrace.

"I missed you," he confessed, "I was _so worried_ that something might've happened and I wouldn't have been able to done _anything_ about it."

"Me too," Al agreed, "I didn't know for _sure_ if you were alive until I got your journal."

"Sorry it took so long," Ed replied.

They broke the hug and a few seconds passed in which both looked each other over. Al was the first to speak.

"I can hardly remember the last time I had to look _up_ at you," he teased, his smile widening at the twitch in his brother's eye.

"Very funny, but nice try squirt," Edward said, brushing off his brother's taunt, "This time _I'm_ the tallest."

He ruffled his brother's hair playfully. However, the lightheartedness in the atmosphere dropped with his arm.

"I was watching," Edward said after a minute, "What happened in the caves, I mean."

Al's eyes lowered to gaze at the floor. Ed had a strong feeling he was thinking about Lieutenant Bloch.

"Then…you know what's going to happen if…" Alphonse trailed off, his voice deathly low.

"Yah," Ed confirmed, "And I won't let it happen."

"How do you intend to _stop_ him!?" Al exclaimed, his nerves now pushed over the edge, "You _saw_ what he did to Lieutenant Bloch!! How can we _compete_ with _magic_!?!"

"Al, calm down!" Edward said, grabbing his brother's shaking shoulders, "We'll figure something out. We always do."

"I just…don't want you to get hurt. I know it's selfish, but…" Al whispered, tears coming to his downcast eyes.

"There were many times during our travels where I thought the same thing. But I always reminded myself of what it'd _be like_ to have something like that on my conscience, where I could've _done_ something but didn't. I wouldn't have been able to live with that."

"Alright, so how do we do this?" Al asked a few moments later, after having thought about what his brother said.

"We get our asses over to Amestris as quickly as possible," Ed supplied.

"_What_!?! You're going to play into his hands!!" Al replied in outrage, "That's the _worst _idea I've _ever _heard!!"

"I'm going to make it _seem_ that way," Ed corrected, "Voldemort doesn't know what he's getting in to."

The Fullmetal Alchemist smirked, seeming to reassure his brother because of the slight smile he returned.

"Then I'm going too," he said determinedly, "I'm not letting you out of my sight again—you always end up in a _ton_ of trouble."

This time it was Al's turn to smile smugly as his brother crossed his arms with an annoyed visage.

A/n- whoever reviewed and said something about thinking Al was dead for a moment…anyone notice how I _specifically_ made it sound that way for like…half a page? That was me letting my evil out. The evil who loves to torture you guys. Don't take it personally, I'm only joking. Hehe. - for CLARIFICATION, the caves Ed mentions are located in Resembool and are part of the second fma game.


	25. The Philosopher's Stone

A/n- sixty reviews people, holy crap. SIXTY!!! I feel so LOVED!!! THANKS to you all!!!

Chapter 25- The Philosopher's Stone

Madam Pomfrey reluctantly let her patient go after Al convinced her he was all right. Ed then brought him to Gryffindor Tower, knowing his friends were eager to meet the one person he cared most about.

One thing bothered him though; he hadn't seen Hoenheim since after the incident in the Great Hall. With all that had been suddenly brought upon him pertaining to saving the world, he was worried for his father's well being. That and a bit annoyed he hadn't greeted Al yet; Ed knew his brother must be anxious to see him. He _was _the only one who had never given up on Hoenheim after all, even when the man had been suspected of being in league with the homunculi so many months ago.

When they arrived, Ed put his thoughts on hold and decided to give his father the benefit of the doubt for once; he figured it was the _least_ he could do for all the times he had _condemned_ him first.

"Ed!! Bloody hell," Harry exclaimed, jumping up from where he was seated as soon as his friend crossed the threshold into the common room, "We tried to come see you but McGonagall ordered us all back here. The Fat Lady wouldn't let us out! I'm glad you came _back_; how's—"

Harry stopped ranting as Al stepped into view and stared at him, speechless. Ron and Hermione rose from their seats as well.

"—Al," the boy-who-lived finished, relieved.

"He's fine," Ed replied, confused, "How did you know about—?"

"We saw you come out of the Great Hall," Harry explained, "We were _right there_—don't you remember?"

"No, I don't," Edward said slowly, "It's all hazy now. I just remember being _really afraid_."

"You scared _us_ too, mate," Ron remarked, "Looked like you were falling apart."

"I was," Ed admitted, slightly embarrassed, "Anyway, guys, this is Al. Al, this is Harry, Hermione, and Ron."

"Nice to meet you," Al greeted, shaking each of their hands, "I've read a lot about you from my brother's journal."

"And we've heard _loads_ about you," Harry replied, "I'd say we practically _know_ each other."

"Yeah, I guess," Alphonse laughed.

"Don't suppose you'll be sticking around for long," Hermione said casually.

"Probably not," Al told her, "But I would have liked to. From what I've read, this place sounds _really _interesting."

"Only with us here, of course," came two uncannily synchronized voices as the Weasley twins walked over.

"This is Fred and George," Ed introduced, "Or…George and Fred maybe…I'm not really sure…"

"I remember reading about you," Al said, snickering, "You're the two who mistook _Brother_ for a _wizard_."

"We've said it before," Fred started.

"Could've happened to anyone," George finished.

Al laughed, the rest of the groups not far behind. Then Edward brightened as he remembered something.

"Oh, Al—there's someone else I want you to meet," he said, leading his brother up the stairs to the boys' dorms.

"Who else could there _possibly_…" Al began, his eyes then falling on the little gray kitten laying at the foot of Edward's bed, seeming to be waiting for him.

"I named him Alphonse," Ed informed his brother, "But we'll have to change it if we're to keep him."

Ed smiled as his brother rushed over to pet the kitten, knowing his idea to keep the creature out of his journal as a surprise was a _very_ good idea.

"I can't believe you—Ed, he's so _cute_," Al cooed, scratching the cat's ears and then turning to his brother with brighter eyes, "How about Spark?"

It took Ed a moment to realize Al was talking about renaming the cat. Once he did, he smiled and nodded.

"Whatever you like," he said.

Just then, Dean and Seamus came up the stairs with hard-set faces, seeming _dangerously_ inquisitive.

"Hey Ed," Seamus called, inclining his head in a demanding manner, "What's going on—who the hell is _he_?"

He nodded toward Al, who instinctively took a step back as Ed instinctively stepped in front of him as a shield.

"This is Al," Ed explained calmly, "My brother. He's just scoping things out before he decides to transfer here."

"Bullshit," Dean broke in, "Don't act like we didn't see what happened in the Great Hall."

"Alright," Ed agreed, then clarifying, "What happened in the Great Hall is unexplainable. He just needs a place to stay until we can figure out what happened. If you have a _problem_ with that, you can answer to _me_."

"_Please_," Seamus scoffed, "You can't even do _magic_."

"I don't _need _magic to kick _your_ sorry asses," Ed shot back arrogantly.

"You trying to start something?" Seamus instigated, moving toward Ed.

"Hey, cut it out," Harry said, planting a halting hand on Seamus's chest, "Just calm down, alright?"

"Whatever," Seamus replied, turning toward the door.

As the two left, Ed let out the breath he'd been holding, wondering if Seamus and Dean suspected Al and him of working for Voldemort, and if _that_ was why they were being so hostile; they _had_ seen most of his scry last night.

A few hours passed in which Al got to know Harry, Ron, and Hermione better as well as chat with his brother. Then they all headed down to lunch, their moods uplifting. However, it didn't last long.

Hoenheim showed up halfway through the meal and, after a happy reunion with Alphonse, insisted his sons follow him back to his office. Harry, Ron, and Hermione tagged along too, despite Hoenheim's exaggeration of the word 'private'. Soon they were all seated in his office, as they had been not long ago.

As soon as they assembled themselves, Hoenheim reached into his robes and presented a ruby about the size of a pecan for everyone to see. When he spoke, he did so to all, but looked only at Edward, silently telling his son that his words were meant more for him.

"While Al was recovering, I was getting this. I figured it'd come in handy."

"That makes things a _hell_ of a lot easier," Ed stated, "thanks."

"Then you're serious about creating the Philosopher Stone?" Hoenheim asked, knowing the answer and yet needing to hear it, for the fact he didn't want to believe it was true, even though he understood why it had to be done; he was undoubtedly concerned for his son.

"Yah, tonight if it's possible," Ed replied.

He took the ruby and stored it in his robes, getting up as he did so. Al got up as well, looking worried.

"Brother—" he started, but Ed interrupted him.

"We have a lot to do," he said, "Harry, Ron, Hermione—you think you can round up some of the DA members to help out? I'd say we need as many as we can get; theoretically, the more participants, the more evenly spread the magic will be consumed and the less chance of anyone getting hurt."

"What should we tell them?" Hermione asked uneasily.

"The truth," Ed stated firmly, "This is _too_ _big _to put anyone at risk who doesn't want to take it. They have to be willing to take the chance of getting hurt."

Hermione nodded and the three left to find able candidates. Ed turned back to his father, one last thought on his mind.

"Can you see if Dumbledore will help us? He'd be a big help since he's made the Stone before, so do whatever it takes."

"Will do," Hoenheim replied with a warm smile, "You know, you remind me of Trisha when you take control of a situation like that," he added.

Surprise flitted across Ed's face as he was taken aback by the sudden reference to his mother, and then he too smiled.

"Well, I _am_ her son, after all," he pointed out.

Hoenheim granted his sons one last smile and then exited, en route to Dumbledore's office so that now the brothers were alone. Ed had done this purposely, knowing Al had something to say, and hadn't wanted to cause a scene with everyone present.

"What is it, Al?" he then asked.

"Ed, how can you _seriously_ be considering making the Philosopher's Stone so _soon_? If what I read from your journal is _true_, then—"

"It's true," Ed confirmed, "and I _know_ it's risky, but we have to act fast. Voldemort could have killed _hundreds_ of innocent people by now; we have to get to Amestris before it turns to _thousands_."

"You _do_ realize that if this works, you'll be _completely_ drained, right? You're not going to cross over to Amestris like that, are you?" Al pointed out.

"No," Ed replied, "I'll take a day to recover. That's why we have to make the Stone _tonight_."

Any other time, Alphonse would be convinced his brother was right, and he half _was_, except for the dreadful feeling in his gut. Maybe it was his subconscious deducing this was a bad idea from the four years he had spent with his brother searching for the Stone, and all of the times they'd nearly gotten _killed_ due to recklessness, or maybe it was the few months he'd had to mature. Whatever it was, Al was certain he must trust his instinct instead of ignore it like the night they had tried to bring their mother back to life.

"Ed, this is suicide," he said, shaking his head.

"Al, I have to _do_ this," Edward replied sternly.

"Why!? Why is it _your_ job to save Amestris!?" Al demanded, lashing out suddenly due to frustration.

"Because it'd be _my _fault if Amestris was destroyed," Ed replied calmly yet firmly, "Voldemort wants _me_, not Amestris."

"_I'm_ saying Amestris can _handle_ itself! We have a military, State Alchemists!"

"They don't know what they're up against!" Ed bellowed, becoming exasperated by Al's continuous naiveté, "I have a _responsibility_ to those people!"

"You gave up that 'responsibility', remember!?" Al countered.

"Give me a break—I wasn't talking about _rank _and you _know_ it!"

"Know _what_, Ed!? I know _nothing_ these days!" Al shot back, "How come we don't see eye-to-eye anymore!? We used to agree on pretty much everything, but now—" Al stopped short of his words and shook his head in disgust, lowering his voice once again to a controlled volume, "I don't even know who you _are_ these days."

Hurt washed across Edward's face as the words hit him, almost as if it were an invisible force. When he spoke, he did so softly, his tone layered with guilt and remorse.

"Al, we've been separated for almost six months. Of _course_ I've changed—I've been living in a frickin' _magic school _for Christ's sake—but I'm still the same brother I've _always_ been. That'll _never_ change—no matter _what_," Ed consoled, "Right now I have to _do _this, for our _home_."

"I know…but I'm _scared_ for you—now more than ever…" Al confessed, suddenly seeming small, "Isn't there another _way_?"

"Sorry, little brother," Edward said, "there are no shortcuts to saving the world."

As soon as dinner was over, the DA members willing to help Ed and Al followed Harry, Ron and Hermione to the Room of Requirement. Ed and Al met them there with Hoenheim and Dumbledore, who had graciously agreed to help. Hoenheim had told Ed at dinner that, while the headmaster didn't approve of their strategy, he knew he'd only be putting his students at risk if he didn't assist them, for they no doubt would do it anyway.

When they arrived, Ed scanned the room, more than satisfied with the number of people who showed up, which was 13, including him. These consisted of Harry, Ron, Hermione, Hoenheim, Dumbledore, Wood, Fred, George, Ginny, Luna, Neville, and Cho. Edward figured their chances were solid; it would either work, or it wouldn't.

Ed was suddenly hit by the reality of the situation. It was actually _happening_; all the dreams he'd had of making the Philosopher's Stone were coming _true_! And it was _his job_ to make sure everyone came out in one piece.

"Alright, everyone gather in a circle around the ruby," Edward directed, placing said jewel in the middle of the room.

They listened and Ed moved now to draw a complex transmutation circle on the floor surrounding the ruby, so that its edges ended where everyone stood. It was embroidered with magic runes that he'd researched during his studies in the library; the idea for this had been floating in his mind for some time, and only now did he act on it. To be honest, he was pretty much winging it, but he wouldn't let the others know that.

"This circle will guide your magic into the Stone," Ed explained, "All you have to do is think of a spell you're comfortable with and shoot it into the array. Try not to pick a spell that'll drain you quickly; the simpler the better. Actually, how about we all do the disarming spell, '_Expelliarmus_' so that the energy coming from everyone is equal. Oh, and try not to shoot the spell on the lines—they could wear off and that would be _bad_," Ed instructed.

The participants around the circle nodded and withdrew their wands, seeming a little nervous. Ed now turned to Al, who looked lost and felt useless.

"Al, I want you to stand back near the wall—just in case there is feedback," Ed told him.

Alphonse nodded and did as his brother said, hoping fervently that everything would be all right. He _wanted_ to mention the jeopardy of Ed's circle, but he knew deep down that his brother was too far into his plot to listen.

"Everyone ready?" Ed called, making sure he received a dozen nods before yelling, "GO!!!"

Thirteen magicians bellowed, "_EXPELLIARMUS_" at once, sending thirteen red blasts into the transmutation circle. The response was explosive; the circle was enveloped in red light and the ruby in the center glowed with it. Red lightning shot off from it every now and then, lodging itself in the walls, ceiling, or whatever was in its way.

Ed could see fear in the eyes of his assistants as each glanced toward him, then Hoenheim, and finally Dumbledore. Each remained calm, which in turn calmed those who were frightened.

Everything seemed to be going well; Ed could feel the power leaving him and escaping into the alchemic equation before him. The ruby was becoming brighter now, as well as a darker shade of red, and even levitated in the air about three feet from the ground. Edward couldn't help smiling; his theory was _working_!

A pulse of energy extended from the ruby and issued a wave of lightning bolts, red with furry. There was a millisecond in the pressure change that Ed couldn't breathe, and he panicked, but soon that was the least of his worries.

The pull of energy he'd felt earlier was increasing exponentially—he could feel it draining from his body like a broken dam. The blood pounded in his head and the world became fuzzy; from somewhere in his mind he knew the reaction of the Stone was catalyzing—a factor he'd overlooked. Humans could handle a constant drain of energy, this he knew, but their bodies weren't designed for something of this magnitude.

_'If only there was **someone else**,'_ he cried inwardly, _'If only there was **one more**—'_

His thoughts ended abruptly as he was provided with an answer. Feebly, he collected his voice and blinked rapidly to clear his vision.

"AL!!!" he yelled, his voice almost lost in the thunder of energy, "AL!!! ASK THE ROOM FOR A WAND!!! WE NEED YOUR HELP!!!"

Whether or not his brother responded, he didn't know, for suddenly everything went black as his senses were erased.

Granted, he was still conscious. Somehow he knew he was still pouring his magic into the Philosopher's Stone, but that there was now _so little_ of it left that his functions were shutting down. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be in a coma.

Al heard his brother's cry as clear as day. He'd seen the domino effect that had happened to the weaker magicians and that was now happening to Ed. Frantically, he scanned the room, saying, "I need a wand," under his breath. "Please," he added for his own sake, "for brother!"

Then he saw it, laying on a desk he'd looked over not half a second before. He ran to it and snatched it up, his heart pounding.

"What do I do!?!" he yelled to no one, "I don't know _magic_!! What's the _spell_!?!"

"It is _Expelliarmus_, young one," came the headmaster's wise and calm voice—Al had completely forgotten he was there.

"But what—!?!" Al started to yell, before Dumbledore interrupted him.

"You must _believe_ in yourself or else 'tis merely a twig," he said.

Al nodded and concentrating, called upon whatever magic he possessed, hoping fervently it would work.

"_EXPELLIARMUS_!!!" he bellowed.

A jet of red light erupted from the end of the wand and embedded itself into the circle. Relief and excitement filled Alphonse at once; he was _saving_ Brother! With _magic_!

Night turned to day in Edward's world; his eyes cleared and his senses returned. The first thing he saw was his brother, wielding a wand with a grin across his face. _'I knew he could do it,' _he thought.

The faces of those who had been consumed by the darkness brightened and surveyed their surroundings, confused. They were wondering what had saved them, Ed realized, or rather, _who_.

The light ebbed now as the ruby—now a deep crimson—floated to the ground in slow motion as if it were a feather, drops of a blood-red liquid dripping off of it on the way down. It landed in a puddle of the liquid and solidified into a perfectly oval gem. Ed lowered his wand, retrieved the Stone, and grinned; _it was done!!_

A/n- LET'S HEAR IT FOR 100 PAGES!!! WHOOHOO!!! just for CLARIFICATION, when Ed says 'feedback' he's talking about the lightning bolts—picture the first episode when everything got purple and the light broke. That is all. READ AND REPLY!!!


	26. The Veil

5

Chapter 26- The Veil

"Is everyone all right!?" Ed called, doing a sweep of the thirteen, fingers hugging the Stone in his pocket, "Al?" he asked next, the concern for his brother by far the greatest.

"I'm fine," Al replied, still smiling as he turned the wand over in his hands.

"Professor?" Ed asked, turning to his father.

"Just a bit tired," Hoenheim responded with a warm grin.

"I think it'd be best if everyone went up to bed," Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eyes, "You can all become famous in the morning."

The students, even Fred and George, were too exhausted to answer; they merely nodded and filed out of the room, dragging their feet.

"Sir, where is my brother going to sleep?" Ed asked wearily.

"There is already a bed set up for him in the boys' dorm," the headmaster replied.

"Thank you, sir," Ed expressed warmly, his words reaching way beyond the topic they were on.

Ed awoke to darkness, wondering what day it was and how long he'd been asleep. He checked the clock on the far wall: midnight. Exhaling, he rolled over and pulled the covers around his shoulders once more; another eight hours would do him good.

The next time he opened his eyes it was daylight and the clock read seven-thirty. He dressed and pulled the curtains back, noticing that Al and his friends were already gone.

He found them at breakfast, chatting jovially amongst themselves. Alphonse seemed amazed from the look on his face; it was a good guess that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were telling him stories about magic.

"Morning," Ed greeted, sliding into the seat next to Al and pulling the pot of coffee toward him simultaneously, "So, what day is it?" he then asked.

"Saturday," Al supplied, grinning at the shocked look on his brother's face, "I know; I was in denial myself until I saw the paper. They have _moving pictures_ here," he exclaimed, "Can you _believe_ it!?"

"Hardly," Ed replied good-naturedly, "Even after _living_ with it for so long."

"By the way," Harry broke in, "you might want to keep the Stone with you at all times—the _entire_ school knows what we did and I've already been getting requests for gold earrings and the like," he warned.

"Sure thing," Ed replied, "Thanks for the tip."

After breakfast, Edward made his way to Dumbledore's office in solitude. He had something to discuss with the headmaster alone. He regretted telling Al this, because of the slight look of hurt that he'd seen under his brother's agreeable response, but it was better than worrying him more than he already had. Ed didn't feel like explaining the urgency of the situation yet again.

He thought all of this as he knocked on the wall next to the Gargoyle. A few minutes passed and then the wall slid back, revealing the winding staircase to the headmaster's office. Dumbledore was waiting for him at their summit, his midnight blue robes swirling around his ankles as he escorted his student into the adjacent room.

"So, Mr. Elric," he asked as they sat down, "how can I be of assistance?"

Ed didn't understand how the mage in front of him could have known his agenda and asked him about it.

"Sir, how did you…?" he trailed off, not wanting to sound demanding; he needn't have worried, for a smile quickly spread itself across Dumbledore's ancient face.

"Name one time you have come to me with something else in mind and I will eat my shoe," he replied.

Embarrassment filled Edward as he realized what a highly unintelligent question he'd asked; Dumbledore was merely making a conjecture using recent events—it wasn't anything he _himself_ wouldn't do.

"I was, eh, wondering if you knew anything about the Veil," he said, turning to the subject at hand.

"The Veil," Dumbledore stated contemplatively, "Another object of immense danger. Tell me, why do you want to learn about such a thing?" he asked.

"Well, the concept of it sounds a lot like the Gate, so I was thinking—now that I have the Philosopher's Stone—maybe it'd work…" Edward explained, his confidence in getting any information falling as he heard the irrationality of his own.

"Either you have always been one to take risks," the wizard sighed, "or you have gotten increasingly risky under the circumstances. What you are planning to attempt has not, and probably can never, be proven. Others would think you had some kind of a death wish."

"But not you?" Ed voiced, unsure.

"No, not me," Dumbledore replied, shaking his head, "I am willing to give you a chance to explain yourself before I make any deductions."

"I do take risks," Ed admitted, seizing his opportunity to prove the headmaster wrong, "But with all due respect, sir, the fact I am here shows I am not willing to walk blindly into something of this importance."

He said this with solid eye contact, letting the man in front of him know he wasn't making this up. Dumbledore still seemed unconvinced by the way his eyes seemed to match his frown.

"And if I don't have any information on the Veil?" the mage asked next to test his pupil, "Are you still planning on entering it regardless?"

To the headmaster's relief, Edward shook his head in a manner that could not be described as anything less than genuine.

"There _is_ another way to cross the Gate," he said, "Granted, it'd take longer, but that's part of the price to pay."

"And yet you are trying to cheat that toll," Dumbledore pointed out.

"Time is short. I'm afraid if I wait too long, I'll return home to a graveyard," Ed replied, his voice softening as worry creased his brow.

The headmaster peered at his student for a moment, pondering what he should do. Then he nodded and Ed let out a relieved sigh; Dumbledore understood.

"You're just lucky I have information," the wizard chided, "If I had not been such a close friend of Nicolas Flamel, I wouldn't know anything; in fact, the secret of the Veil would have died along with him and his wife."

"I happen not to believe in luck," Ed replied with the shadow of a smirk curling his lips, "It tends to be unreliable."

"Yes, well, you ignore the fact that it follows you around constantly," Dumbledore said, "Anyway, concerning the Veil—I believe it would interest you greatly to say that this friend of mine, Nicolas Flamel, was also the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone, but given the look on your face, I'd venture to guess you already knew that."

Edward nodded and this time he couldn't hide the smirk. However, the sly grin not only reflected the exhilarated feeling he got from his wide range of knowledge, but also the delight that Dumbledore was just as smart. Before tonight he'd never fully realized how much he enjoyed carrying out an intelligent conversation with the man. Perhaps, if the events weren't so pressing, he might have exploited it more.

"Very well," Dumbledore continued, "What you _don't_ know is that Flamel _built_ the Veil as a passage between the two worlds."

Ed's smirk instantly dropped and his brow became lined with confusion as he sorted out the headmaster's words.

"But, when we first met you said—"

"I told you I'd never been able to prove the existence of another world, true," Dumbledore intervened, "however, I led you to believe this so that the topic of the Veil wouldn't be brought up. I wanted to avoid the creation of the Philosopher's Stone this way, much as I did with Harry as well, since the only way to pass through the Veil is to pay the toll, whatever that is. Obviously, it seems as though my wishes were simply not to be."

Again, the expression on Ed's face changed rapidly. Now a frown occupied his visage as he spoke next.

"I could be home now, of you had told me," he said bitterly, "I could be fighting Voldemort right now!"

"It is not wise to dwell on what _could have been_," the headmaster replied in a authoritative voice, "because you do not know such a thing to be true. For one, you would have had less magical experience, and two; your brother would not have been around to save the day when you decided to create the Stone. So you see, you cannot hope to understand what _could_ and _could not_ have occurred."

Edward nodded dumbly; it was all he could manage after being reprimanded like that. Moreover, it irked him that he had not thought of the sequence of hypothetical events that could never be _anyway_. _'You're slipping,'_ his mind told him, _'You have to **concentrate**! You can't **afford** to screw up now!'_

"So," he asked after resolving himself, "All I have to do is walk through the Veil, Stone in hand?"

"Supposedly," Dumbledore replied.

_'**Supposedly**,' _Edward thought, _'I really **hate** that word.'_


	27. Homecoming

8

A/n- sorry that took so long people, but I'm inescapably sure that this chapter will make up for the previous short one and the length of time it took to finish this one. So, without further ado, _enjoy_.

Chapter 27- Homecoming

Edward returned to the dorm, contemplating his next move. It was simple enough, in theory, however Ed knew that theory could go horribly wrong. Look what happened with the Philosopher's Stone, for instance; Dumbledore was right—he'd been lucky.

But he wasn't about to linger on that. No, there were more important things to be done. For one, Ed had to figure out how they would get to the Ministry of Magic. _'Perhaps this'll be another perfect chance to mix alchemy and magic,'_ he thought, relishing the idea. By the time he climbed through the portal hole, he had a plan.

"Ed!" Alphonse greeted as his brother stepped into the common room.

He jumped up from the couch he was seated on and hurried over, stopping a little short of a meter in front of Ed. He had been happy to see his brother at first, but now he seemed annoyed.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened?" he asked.

The words seemed foreign coming from his lips; it wasn't in his nature to be so demanding. Ed was clearly taken aback from the way his eyes widened.

"I—of course," he stuttered, not able to rid himself of his surprise; Al was definitely becoming more self-confident. Ed could only hope it wouldn't go to his head as it had his.

He received the expected reactions as he explained; surprise, wonder, and apprehension all rolled into one. For the first time since their reunion, Ed could see his brother actually agreed with his course of action. As he finished his debriefing, Alphonse nodded thoughtfully.

"It's the lesser of two evils," he commented, referring to the plan.

There was nothing left to say; the five spent the rest of the day preparing to depart. This consisted of constructing yet another circle, only this time it incorporated the magic runes involved with Disapparating as well as the equations for transportation. The biggest difference in this scenario, though, was the fact they actually had time to research the transmutation circle; there was a 65 chance of success. Although the percentage was better than Edward had expected, he still wasn't comfortable placing their fate in a number.

It was quiet now as they stood around the circle, hearts heavy for the fact that only three would actually be going. It had been decided earlier and agreed upon reluctantly: Ron and Hermione were to stay behind. Ed didn't want to wear down the Philosopher's Stone more than necessary and he knew he needed Harry's help fighting the Dark Lord because of the Prophecy.

Ron and Hermione had insisted on going as well, only to be turned down; there needed to be enough power in the Stone for all of them to return home. Even with Harry, Al, Hoenheim and him, the equivalence to pass the Gate was five lives, theoretically, if Harry intended on being able to return home.

Foreboding hung in the air as they waited for the Professor to arrive. He did so in a few minutes, stepping through the door to the Room of Requirement and causing a domino effect on its occupants.

Faces dropped and eyes wandered to the array on the floor. Silence issued forth as Hoenheim spoke up, clearing his throat first, awkwardly.

"Are we ready?" he asked.

The words were too much for Hermione; she burst out in tears and pulled Harry close, wishing him luck. The boy-who-lived gulped, then hugged her back, promising to return. Hermione turned to the Elrics now, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Don't get in too much trouble," she joked, but the irony of her humor brought on another wave of tears.

She drew the brothers into a hug as well, rasping her goodbyes. Ed and Al muttered theirs back, blushing from the awkwardness of the gesture.

As she did this, Harry turned to Ron with hesitancy, unsure of what to say. Ron held out his hand so he shook it, halfway through pulling his best friend into a tight hug. Both pulled away a moment later, clapping each other on the back, embarrassed by their outward display of emotion.

Ed moved to Ron next, his feelings already turned upside down from all the drama.

"I guess this is goodbye," the alchemist stated, shaking his friend's hand.

"Yeah," Ron replied, "Look after yourself, mate."

Ed stepped back, breaking the connection lethargically as he realized there was no one else to give his condolences to. Hermione thanked the Professor, with Ron hastily doing the same after an elbow in the ribs from the witch next to him as she hissed, "Be polite," during the transaction.

Lastly, Alphonse turned to Ron, who was rubbing his ribs, shyness in his voice as he said goodbye.

"It was nice meeting you," he said, shaking Ron's hand.

"You too," Ron agreed, "Watch after your brother for me."

The younger Elric nodded, a slight smile and a certain vibrant twinkle in his eyes as he caught the jibe at Edward's recklessness. Ed scoffed and shook his head, dismissing the comment in good humor.

"We should get started," he said then, becoming serious.

The four took up their positions by the circle's edge, kneeling down before it. They placed their hands on the etched lines and poured the energy into its center, calling forth both alchemy and magic. The air sizzled with electricity and the lump in Edward's throat rose higher. _'Will it work'_ he wondered briefly, before he felt an overwhelming wave of energy consume him.

Now there was merely air where the five had been seconds ago, as a flash of blue light enveloped them. They disintegrated into billions of tiny particles, which were then sucked into the center of the circle in a tornado of energy.

When Edward awoke next, he was surrounded by wizards and witches who all had their wands pointing, quite rudely actually, in his and his companions' faces. They stared at the intruders with suspicion enough to make them spontaneously combust with it; obviously, they weren't welcome. And if this wasn't enough trouble, Ed felt increasingly nauseous. For a moment he ignored their guards and checked everyone over.

"Is everyone all right?" he asked anxiously, swallowing the urge to lose his dinner all over the floor.

"Bloody _wonderful_," Harry grumbled, holding his stomach; apparently Ed wasn't the only one feeling sick.

"Fine, Brother," Al replied, wondering if there was a greenish tint to his face.

"I take it we're not trustworthy enough," Hoenheim stated, looking at a wand not two inches from his nose, "Pardon the intrusion, gentlemen, but if you will give us a moment, we can explain why we are here."

"What is going on here!?" came an outraged voice, "We're in the middle of a crisis and you're having a bloody _tea party_! _What_ is so bloody _interesti—_!?!"

The man who was yelling stopped dead in his tracks as the intruders came into view and his mouth dropped open in surprise.

"H-Harry!?" Mr. Weasley stuttered, pushing past the circle of Aurors surrounding his son's friend, "Why are you here? You haven't been—_kidnapped_, have you!?"

"No, these are friends," Harry assured him hastily as Arthur pulled out his wand, "See, I've got my wand right here. I could roast these guys if I wanted to," he supplied to convince everyone.

"Harry Potter?" the witches and wizards around them gossiped to each other, "Is it _really_!? _Potter_ is _here_!?"

"We need your help," Ed spoke up, gaining Mr. Weasley's attention.

"This is about the Dark Lord, isn't it?" Arthur perceived gravely, "We just got an owl from Dumbledore that You-Know-Who is threatening another _world_ to get to _you_, Harry," he explained, "The entire Ministry's been in an _uproar_ since then—everyone's on edge and no one knows whether to _believe_ it or not. Well, what is this about? Why are you_ here_!? Who _are_ you people!?!"

"We need to get to the Veil," Harry told the increasingly nervous man, "quickly."

"Well, then I suppose we'd best get going," Mr. Weasley suggested, waving them to follow, "Hurry now; this way," he directed.

The four scrambled to their feet and proceeded to leave the Aurors behind, who weren't sure whether to trust the intruders or chase after them. A few decided on the later a couple of seconds later and rushed after the five, wands in hand.

"Halt!" one of the more concerned ones yelled, "Arthur Weasley, you could lose your job over this!!"

"I'm sure the destruction of a world is more _bloody _important!!" Mr. Weasley shot back, just as Ed whispered, "Weasley," under his breath, recognizing the resemblance to his friend.

They ran past the work places of many clueless employees, but luckily no one got in their way, except the Minister of Magic himself. Ed blew right over him without any feelings of remorse.

"_What_ is the _meaning_ of this!?!" the outraged wizard erupted, as he picked himself up off the floor.

'_Equivalent exchange, dumbass,'_ Edward thought as he flashed the man a smirk, taking two seconds to clap his hands and trap the Minister in a cage he made from the ground beneath him, just to be sure he wouldn't cause any trouble for them.

"Right then; the Veil is just through here," Mr. Weasley instructed, stopping in front of a plain, black door—the one Harry knew led to the room with the dozens of doors just like it, and eventually to the Brain Room that harbored the Veil.

"I'll keep everyone away as long as I can," Mr. Weasley continued, "The sequence for the doors is the same every time someone walks in. All you have to do is remember which ones you opened Harry, and it'll save _a lot_ of time."

The boy-who-lived blinked, speechless from the outrageous tip he just received. _'Remember the **sequence**!?'_ he thought incredulously, _'Is he **insane**!? I was barely **thinking** straight the first time I went through there!!!'_ Nonetheless, he nodded and opened the door, leading the others through it into the room he'd been in just last year.

"Well, Harry," Ed spoke up once the doors in the room stopped spinning, "Can you remember which door it was?"

Harry shook his head in defeat after a moment of sweeping the room helplessly with wide and pleading eyes. Ed's face dropped to a thoughtful frown; he knew they had precious minutes before Mr. Weasley would be overwhelmed by the Aurors.

"Can you remember how you felt the last time you were here?" he asked next, a solution coming to him.

"How I _felt_!?" Harry repeated, appalled by the question, "We're being chased by Aurors and you—how is _that_ going to solve anyth—!?!"

"He's going to scry it, obviously," Alphonse broke in hastily, "Now can you remember or not!?"

"Of course—I was…worried…scared…confused…and I felt like everything was up to _me_, even though I had everyone's help," Harry answered, getting to the point.

"Alright, that should be easy enough," Edward concluded, taking out his wand, "_I've_ felt the same way before a few times," he added.

He concentrated, bringing up the feelings that had flooded his mind when Winry was kidnapped, when Al had ran away, and when he had found out the Fuehrer was a homunculus. He mixed this with the thought of Harry in this very room; it only took a short amount of time for a wispy cloud to appear of the event.

It didn't take long for them to figure out which doors to open; there were only two of them anyway. Two minutes later and they found themselves in the room filled with shelves of jarred brains.

The Veil stood in the back of the room, swaying with an invisible wind. Various incoherent whispers reached Edward's ears and he glanced toward Harry. The wizard's face was pale and a sickly fear resided in his eyes as they caught his. Neither had to say anything to let the other know they heard the whispers too. Al was the only one who dared to say anything.

"I wonder what they're saying," he whispered, his face drained of color as he shuddered and continued, "I think I _knew_ at one point," he said mysteriously.

"You mean, when your body was…" Ed trailed off in the midst of his inquiry and swallowed nervously.

"I'm not sure," Alphonse replied, "But they seem familiar…"

"Let's just get this over with," Hoenheim suggested, placing a consoling hand on his younger son's shoulder.

"Right," Ed answered, his voice seeming hollow.

He took the Stone from his pocket and held it in his open hand, staring at it for a moment.

"Okay, I think it'd be best if we all held hands," he said finally, "and not let go for _anything_ until we're on the other side."

They arranged themselves in a compact circle, Al holding the hand that occupied the Philosopher's Stone. He squeezed it tightly, gazing into his brother's eyes for reassurance. Ed smiled to calm him, but the emotion remained frozen on his lips.

Without a word, the Fullmetal Alchemist moved toward the Veil, holding the hands of his brother and father in a death grip. He didn't want to think of what would happen if they were to separate in the Gate, given his theory actually _worked_.

_'Well,'_ he thought before they plunged into the darkness, _'At least we'll die together if it comes to that.'_

A/n- remember chapter 3 with Fudge? Well, the equivalent exchange remark came from that, if y'all don't recall. I surprised myself in this ch though. I reread the ch in book five that focused on the Veil's description and where it was, and suddenly, POOF! I was writing some s about Al and the whispers seeming familiar. I was like, woah—where the hell did THAT come from!? ;) hope you enjoyed. And if you did, let me know by REPLYING!! Come on people, I wanna break 100 reviews on this one!!!


	28. Reunion

A/n- I got a lot of negative reviews on the 'little by little' thing so from now on it's full chapters whenever I finish them. My goal is to finish this over Christmas vacation, so wish me luck all. Sorry it's been so long; this chapter was long and hard to write and I had to rewrite a certain scene three times. T.T but it's good now. ENJOY!! I LOVE U ALL!!!! HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!!

Chapter 28- Reunion

Harry's POV

The landscape Harry woke up to was perhaps as far away from England and its dreary, misty weather as possible. They had landed next to a small river on a slope of glistening, green grass. The sun reflected off the water, making it sparkle; the effect looked like millions of crystals dancing against one another. Even the colors in this new world seemed brighter, as if they held more character.

"Wow…" he breathed, taking in the vibrant sights around him, then remembering his companions. "Hey Ed, Al, Professor, you up?" he asked, shaking each slightly.

They stirred and slowly opened their eyes. Ed sat up and took a deep breath of the country air, closing his eyes in peace as he relaxed, erasing the various stress creases that were entwined on his forehead.

"It's good to be home," he murmured, opening his eyes again.

"Brother, something isn't right here," Al commented, confusion and worry on his brow, "although I don't know what…"

"It's too quiet," Hoenheim noticed, standing up, "Isn't it…?" he added, as if he wasn't entirely sure.

"We're definitely in Resembool," Al confirmed, listening for moment. "You're right…" he agreed in a low whisper.

A determined look came over Ed's face as he climbed the slope, intending to figure out whatever was the problem. Harry heard a gasp as he froze at the summit, and then the alchemist collapsed to his knees.

Al's POV

Horror enveloped Al's face; his eyes widened and he bolted for his brother, where he too stopped, joining Ed on the ground. Harry and the Professor arrived half a second later, discovering the reason for such an extreme reaction.

The entire town was mere ruins, with the occasional wisp of smoke rising from a few straggling embers. The broken foundations of the houses spoke of a massive fire, the likes of which could not have been natural; it was quite obvious this disaster was purposely inflicted.

"I-it's completely…everything is g-go—" Ed choked on the last word and he hung his head, his hands gripping the grass beneath them.

"Brother, we need to find—we need to see if—"

Al was unable to finish his sentence as well. Tears welled in his eyes as a lump rose in his throat. Hoenheim was the only one able to get out coherent words, though his face was perhaps the palest between them.

"Alphonse is right; we need to search for survivors."

He helped Ed to his feet, who swayed as he gained them but otherwise needed no other assistance. He seemed to have been able to somehow bottle his feelings up for the good of the mission. Al envied him; it hurt _so much_ not knowing if Winry and the others were okay and it was impossible to keep his mind off of that! Faces of the friendly villagers flashed through his mind and fed on his torment, releasing the tears from before.

Then something unexplainable happened. A feeling—determination maybe—rose in him as the analytical side of his mind told him worrying and crying wouldn't solve anything. A thought hit him: _'I need to be strong and keep it together so I can help **fix** this!'_

He glanced at Harry, thinking the wizard might have put a spell on him, but the teen's wand was nowhere in sight. Puzzled, he got to his feet and advanced down the hill into the village. He must have surprised the others, for they hurried after him to catch up, casting worried glances in his direction. Al caught his brother's questioning eyes and nodded, reassuring Ed he was all right.

Ed's POV

Ash marred their shoes as they stepped along the once dirt road through the desecrated village. Ed was worried, but he ignored this feeling. It seemed Al was doing the same, because his face had changed almost instantly from torment to a stoic, intense one. Ed was grateful for this; one, it made him proud that Alphonse had learned to deal with his emotions, and two, the elder Elric hated to see that lost, pained look on his brother's face.

They walked the entire village, finally making it to the former Rockbell household. All that was left now were the foundations, just like the other houses; everything and everyone in it was gone.

"We don't know for sure," Edward said, surprising himself—he hadn't meant to speak aloud—as he continued, "I won't believe anything until I bury them."

"But—_Ed_! Where could they have _possibly_—!?" Harry blurted, amazed by his friend's denial.

But Ed wasn't paying any attention to him; he was thinking about bigger problems. _'I don't understand it; where is Voldemort!? Has he slaughtered the people here and moved on?' _There was one way to find out, he decided; he'd have to scry it.

Curious eyes followed him as he drew his wand from his coat and held it in front of him. He wasn't unduly worried his magic wouldn't work; he reasoned that if his alchemy worked in _their_ world, then their magic would work in _his_ world. Apparently this conjecture was correct, for a miasma quickly composed in front of him as he released his emotion.

Voldemort appeared, pacing a stone floor. Ed could see the area around him and recognized it immediately as the caves. The Dark Lord wasn't the only one present; around him sat the villagers, including Winry and Pinako, restricted by thick cords. Their faces were contorted in fear as they sat completely still, perhaps too frightened to struggle against their bonds.

Around them stood a group of hostile-looking men, some carrying knives and others, guns. Ed identified them as the less honorable men of Resembool, who probably felt no remorse about turning against their country.

"We should head to the train station," Edward said as the cloud dispersed, "I need to get to Central and find the Colonel. It's less than one town over, so if we hurry we can get there within the hour."

"What do you—we aren't going to rescue them!?!" Al blurted, aghast and angry.

"We aren't ready to—," Ed tried to explain, but Al wouldn't listen to excuses.

"_I_ won't abandon them!!" he shouted, clenching his fists, "They _need_ us!! How can you just walk away from that!?!"

"I don't want to, alright!?!" Ed exclaimed, an angry and hurt look on his face, "But if we try anything heroic now, any deaths will be _our_ fault!! Those men would kill half of those people before we were able to get close to them!! Not to mention there's an evil _wizard_ in our way!!"

He abruptly turned around and headed toward the outskirts of town. Al simmered in anger, not because of his brother's decision, but because it was _right_. His face slowly turned from sour to distressed, until finally he ran to catch up with Ed. The others followed, silent as they left the tainted land behind them.

"I _hate _this," Al muttered bitterly as they walked, a disgusted look on his face now.

"I don't like it either, but this is the only way we can help Winry and Auntie. Voldemort doesn't know we're here yet and won't expect us for another four days. If we can give him a surprise attack, everyone will be much better off," Ed reasoned, convinced this was the best course of action; he clenched his fists, willing for everyone to be unharmed when they returned. He didn't put it past Voldemort to get bored and start killing a few.

They made it to the train station in about an hour, noticing as they drew closer that all the windows and doors were boarded up. The town behind it looked the same and the streets were empty; it was a very eerie sight.

"What the hell?" Ed murmured, jogging the last few meters to the front door.

"Ed, I don't think it's open," Al said as he reached it as well.

"But, why would it be closed? And what's with the town?" Harry wondered aloud, "You don't think it's deserted as well…?"

"It's very possible," Hoenheim confirmed, "That or they're all too afraid to come out."

"Well, we still need to get to Central," Ed stated just before he began banging on the door, "Hello!? Is anyone there!?! This is a State Alchemist so you may as well open up!!!"

"Ed, no one's in there," Harry pointed out, "And if there is, they clearly don't want company, State Alchemist or not."

"Wait, I think I can…" Ed trailed off as he squinted through a crack in the boards, "Hey, there's someone—oh, never mind, just a dog. Well, I'm going in," he declared.

"Ed! We can't just break in there!" Al protested at his brother's audacity.

"Why not?" Harry countered as Ed clapped his hands and turned the boards to kindling, "It's not as if there's anyone to object."

"Alright, we're in. Piece of cake," Edward said with a slight smirk as he opened the door, "Now all we need to do is get a train working…"

They walked past the empty ticket booths that on any normal day would be crowded with people. Now the windows were barred shut and the lines vacant. The trains sat on their tracks, their whistles unusually silent.

"So, I think all we need to do is heat up the water in the holding tank and get a good fire going in the engine room," Edward said, scanning the various locomotives and trying to pick the one that had taken him and Al to Central the last time they were here. "I think that's the one," he said after a minute of pondering.

They boarded the train Ed pointed to, each spreading out to get whatever they needed to do completed before departure. Al scrounged up a map of the railroads so they'd know when to change tracks and Hoenheim read through the manual he found in the front car since he'd agreed to drive. As they did this, Harry levitated coal into the stove and created a roaring fire, while Ed heated the water in the holding tank.

Everything had been going great up to the point when Al decided to sound the whistle as an uplifting gesture when they got the train running. Not one of them thought anything of it until the click of a gun and a low voice sounded behind them.

"Don't move," it ordered, waiting for everyone to freeze on reflect, "Now, what are you doing here?"

Ed cautiously turned around so he could face his opponent, raising his hands to keep from getting shot. Somehow he had to get everyone out of this mess, meaning he needed to liberate this man's gun. He just hoped that Harry would hurry back with the extra coal soon; the boy's magic would be really handy at this point.

The man in front of Ed kept his weapon leveled at the alchemist's forehead, nullifying any chance he had to retaliate. He studied the man as he racked his brain for a solution. He was lanky and young; his long black hair and pale face didn't correspond with his neatly pressed security guard uniform. But there was something in his eyes—a certain determined, intense stare that caused the hairs on the back of Ed's neck to stand on end. _'I have seen evil,'_ they seemed to say. The man's eyes unnerved Ed; _where _was Harry!?

"I'll ask again," the man said, "What are you doing here?"

By this time Al and Hoenheim were facing their adversary as well. Ed decided that engaging the stranger in conversation was just what he needed to buy time until Harry returned. However, he didn't plan on being polite.

"We're borrowing a train, isn't that what it _looks_ like we're doing," he replied sarcastically, ignoring the weapon aimed at his face and the uneasy feeling in his gut, "Since your service is down, we're taking matters into our _own_ hands."

"Edward," Hoenheim said cautiously, placing a hand on his son's shoulder, silently telling him to keep his cool as he addressed the man, "I apologize for the intrusion, but it is crucial we get to Central as soon as possible."

"I can't just let you take a train," the man said, "Now, if you would, leave before I call the police. Fortunately for you, I'm not under the jurisdiction to arrest anyone."

"Please, the police?" Ed scoffed, "They wouldn't do you any good; I'm a State Alchemist."

"If you're trying to fool me, then I'm sorry to say it's not working," the man replied coolly, "Anyone can see you're much too young to be a State Alchemist."

"Have you ever heard the name Edward Elric?" Ed asked him, steaming, "He was 12 when he received the title."

"Are you trying to tell me _you're_ the Fullmetal Alchemist?" the man laughed, "Everyone knows he died half a year ago after betraying the military."

"Really?" Edward smirked, "And you believe that load of shit?"

Edward cursed just as Harry came back with the coal. It floated behind him, following the trail of his wand, however it fell to the floor when he saw the man in the security uniform as he prepared for a new spell. The man turned abruptly as he heard the clatter of the coal, his gun trained on the one behind him.

"_Expelliarmus!!_" Harry yelled, before he got a look at the man.

The man in question was thrown backward into the side of the car, his gun skidding away from him as he landed on the ground. His black hair covered his face as he lay there, motionless.

"Nice work, Harry," Edward complimented as he knelt over the guard and ripped off a bit of his uniform.

He used the strand of material to transmute it into a stronger one that he could use as a rope and bound the man's hands. Then he rolled him over to study his face, wondering slightly if he'd seen it before, and if he did, in which world.

"Bloody hell…Sirius?" the boy-who-lived whispered as he saw the man's face.

"You know him?" Al asked, confused, "How is that possible?"

"He's my godfather," Harry supplied, a look of wonder on his face as a giddy feeling rose in his gut.

"The one who fell through the Veil? But that's—what about the toll!?" Edward protested.

"I-I don't know," Harry stuttered, tears in the teen's eyes, "And I really don't care. Come on, help me untie him."

"Hold on," Ed replied, stopping him with his words, "I've seen people in both worlds who look alike but are different altogether. This Sirius could be the Amestrian that just _looks_ like your godfather," he explained.

"Oh…" Harry said, his face falling as he stared at the unconscious man's face. Then it brightened suddenly as a thought came to him. "Wait, Ed, you said you saw a dog earlier—what did it look like?"

"It was big and black. Why—what does that prove?" Ed asked in confusion.

"Then this _is_ him," Harry confirmed, untying his godfather's bonds, "Sirius is an Animagus—he can transform into a big, black dog."

Once his godfather was free, he propped him up in the corner of the car, wondering how long it'd be before he regained consciousness. He hoped it wouldn't be long, because the massive amount of questions flitting through his mind was driving him insane.

Sirius woke a good hour into their travels; by this time they were somewhere between East City and Central. He shifted slightly and placed a hand to his forehead as he opened his eyes, seeming to try and steady his vision. Harry noticed his movements immediately—he'd been watching his godfather religiously since they'd departed. Now he knelt in front of him, anxiously awaiting recognition.

"H-Harry…?" Sirius muttered uncertainly, probably wondering if he was hallucinating.

"Yeah, it's me," Harry replied with a tearful smile.

"That's not possible!" Sirius exclaimed softly, gaining his feet, "How did you _get_ here—unless—you passed through the _Veil_!?"

Harry nodded, his smile trembling with emotion as he too, stood. His godfather seemed more angry than pleased with his reply though.

"Why would you do something so _careless_!? You could have _died_ in that place!" he shouted in rage, "I thought you were _smarter _than that!"

"We had the Philosopher's Stone," Harry explained quickly, "So we were fine, really," he added reassuringly.

"The Philosopher's Stone!?" Sirius blurted in surprise.

"Yeah, we made it—a bunch of us—with Dumbledore's help, too," Harry explained further, before his godfather could chastise him again.

Sirius sighed heavily, seeming to give up on the 'protective, worried guardian' role and smiled, perhaps remembering how he used to get into the same amount of danger when _he_ was young.

"Well," he said in a calmer voice, "I'm glad you're okay." He shook his head in obvious disbelief; "My god, Harry, I thought I'd never see you again."

Tears collected in the teen's eyes; he was glad Sirius pulled him into a hug because at the moment he found it impossible to move.

"There's one thing I don't understand," Harry said once they parted, "How did _you_ make it through the Veil?"

"Magic," Sirius responded, "The Veil took my wand and my magic so I became a security guard," he explained.

"It makes sense," Ed commented, nodding, "But still, you were lucky to make it out alive," he added.

"I take it you're friends of Harry?" Sirius questioned, scanning the other three occupants of the car, "I'm Sirius, Harry's godfather," he established, starting the introduction chain.

"Oh, right, this is Edward, Alphonse and Hoenheim Elric," Harry presented, motioning to the correct person as he said their name.

"So you were telling the truth," Sirius noted, his dark eyes falling on Ed and Al, "I've heard many stories of you two since I came here. Obviously they weren't all true."

"Then you must know about Voldemort," Ed stated.

"I was the one who warned this town to take the rumors seriously," Sirius replied, "Though it was difficult keeping a low profile that way, especially when I had to show a few untrusting people my dog form to get them to believe I was telling the truth."

"Yeah, I bet," Alphonse laughed.

"You said the Veil took your magic, so how is it you're still able to transform?" Hoenheim asked.

"There is still _some_ magic in me," Sirius replied, "But it's draining; with every transformation, it gets a little harder to grasp." He smiled tightly as if to say, _'oh well'_ and changed the subject. "I know you're here to try and destroy Voldemort, but why are you going to Central?" he asked, his eyes resting on Harry, then moving to Ed, "I would think you'd be anxious to fight him for what he did to your hometown."

"I _will_ take revenge for that," Ed replied, hatred in his eyes. He sighed and the fire faded as he reluctantly continued; "But we need allies. I know of someone in Central who can help."

"For what it's worth, it takes a lot of courage to admit you're outnumbered," Sirius complemented, "I know, well, _used to_ know adults who refused to say the same."

"Thanks, though I'm used to surpassing adults," Edward said, a smirk on his face.

"Of course, your _ego_ surpasses everything else," Al teased, flashing a playful grin at his brother's glare, "The only thing people used to _surpass_ you on was your _hei_—!"

"Hey, who's brother _are_ you!?" Ed interrupted, mocking anger.

"Well, I _used _to be brothers with a _midget_, but then he got a growth spurt at _magic school_!" Al gibed humorously, laughing at the twitch in Ed's eye.

"I was not a midget!!" Ed protested, crinkling his nose, "And you make it sound like I used _magic_ to alter my height!"

"Well, I can't really be sure…" Al trailed off, his grin widening.

"Don't worry Ed; your secret's safe with me," Harry said seriously, playing along.

"I DID NOT USE MAGIC TO MAKE MYSELF TALLER!!!" Edward erupted, flailing his arms over his head, "I _GREW_—THE _NATURAL_ WAY!!!"

Al and Harry broke into laughter, with Sirius and Hoenheim chuckling softly in the background. Ed rolled his eyes and exhaled loudly, then breaking into a grin. He couldn't feign anger for long in their company, he realized, and laughed along with them, treasuring the moment.

They arrived in Central an hour later, safely coming to a stop at Central Station. They vacated the front car, receiving strange and suspicious looks as the tourists, travelers, and attendants realized they were the only ones on the train. They ignored the stares and exited the station swiftly, flagging a cab.

"Where to?" the cab driver asked, peering at them in the rear-view mirror.

"Central Headquarters," Ed replied, moving as far over to the window as possible so they could all fit. Hoenheim slipped into the front, ready to give directions if need be.

"Have we met before?" the driver asked, turning around and squinting at Ed, trying to place where he might have seen him.

"You must be thinking of someone else," Ed replied, lowering his eyes to try and avoid recognition.

"Huh, must be," the man said, returning to the wheel and driving away, casting glances at Ed in the mirror every now and then.

Edward kept his head angled down, not wanting to be discovered; he expected he'd be subject to arrest for conspiring against the Fuehrer if he ever was.

It was a quick and quiet ride to Central Headquarters; Ed was trying to think of how he'd get in to talk to the Colonel, since he wasn't exactly welcome there anymore. Breaking and entering was an undesirable solution; he wanted to be on the military's _good_ side when he asked for Mustang's help.

The cab pulled over and Sirius paid the fare, being the only one between them with the correct currency. The driver peered at Ed one last time, his face suddenly brightening.

"I know who you remind me of," he said, shaking a finger at the alchemist; Ed gulped. "You look like that Fullmetal kid," the driver continued, "Except you're taller than he was."

"Yeah, lucky me," Ed ground out, clenching his teeth to keep from punching the moron.

Fortunately, the cab drove away before he lost control of himself. Instead he approached the telephone booth outside the building, taking the coins Sirius handed him to pay; he hoped they hadn't changed the number as he dialed the switchboard.

"Central Headquarters, how can I help you?" a female voice answered, her speech buzzing over the phone line.

"I need to speak with Colonel Mustang; can you connect me please?" Ed asked.

"Colonel…oh, you mean General Mustang! Yes, hold on a moment," the operator replied.

There was a beep and the line went mute. _'That's right, Mustang's a General now,'_ Ed thought as he waited. There was another beep and then someone picked up the phone.

"General Mustang; how may I be of service?" came the deep, rough voice Ed remembered.

"Roy?" Edward said quietly, all thoughts of what he was going to say fleeing his mind.

"Ed…is that you?" came Mustang's bewildered reply.

"Yeah, I'm back," Ed confirmed, "We have to talk."

"I'll get Riza to escort you in," Mustang supplied, pausing as if he was about to hang up, "It's good to have you back, Fullmetal," he added, and then the line went dead.

A/n- who was it that reviewed and asked about Sirius?? Well, that was ironic, anyway, because I had been planning on this chapter for a while. So what'd y'all think??? Hmn?? Review and let me know!!!! HAVE A GREAT VACATION MINNE!!!!


	29. The Power of Science

A/n- sorry it's taken so long guys. Really, it destroys me when I think of how long it's taken me to write this chapter. It was a challenge, so I'll be looking forward to constructive criticism.

Chapter 29- The Power of Science

Two days passed with anxiety levels high; it was more or less inevitable what with the upcoming battle hanging over everyone's heads. It was like a volcano that could erupt at any given time; it was unnerving.

Nonetheless, they were as ready as they'd ever be. Hard work had paid off phenomenally. Tomorrow would be the day—the day the fate of Amestris would be decided.

The severity of the situation had pushed Roy to pool all their resources. _That_ had taken a massive load of paperwork and Mustang had complained constantly while doing it, but it was worth it in the end. The fact Ed had to strain himself to keep from punching the General had his spirits up and his mind off of tomorrow as well. Without the distraction, he was likely to have driven himself insane obsessing over all the ways tomorrow could go wrong.

That and the arrival of old friends; Ed had come up with the plan and had contacted the Tringham brothers to request their help. Of course they were glad to, once they'd gotten over the initial shock of discovering Ed was, in actuality, _alive_ and _not_ decaying at the bottom of his grave. Apparently, the Fullmetal Alchemist, hero of the people and deserter to the military had been declared dead within a week of his mysterious disappearance; it was obviously a slap in the face from the higher-ups Ed had supposedly betrayed. There hadn't even been an official search party, not that Roy hadn't tried his best to find his slippery subordinate through his own enterprises.

Armstrong was another important part of the plan; his strength and alchemic power was needed in order to have somewhat of an advantage over the Dark Lord. He too was surprised to learn Edward was unharmed and had arrived in Central within the hour, not hesitating to comprise the older Elric in a lethal bear hug while tears streamed down his face in torrents and sparkles danced around his head.

But at last the breath before the plunge was almost over. All that was left to do was fetch the Tringhams from their train and hop on the one that would take them to where they'd first encountered Sirius. From there it was the Resembool Caves and perhaps a stroke of luck.

"Russell! Over here!!" Ed called as he spotted his friend and waved him over.

The tall blonde saw him and waved back, a warm smirk on his face as he led his brother to where they were waiting.

"It's good to see you, Ed," Russell greeted, his smirk growing, "I see you've grown. Before you were up to my chest."

"I was not!" Ed snapped, glaring up at the older Tringham, "I was at _least_ up to your neck!"

"Sure, keep dreaming," Russell shot back.

Their bickering was interrupted as Fletcher burst into laughter at their antics. Al chuckled as well, shaking his head as if embarrassed by his brother. His face showed differently though; it was good to be back in his friends' company.

"It _is _good to see you again," Fletcher spoke up, then turning to Alphonse, "And you too, even though you never kept in touch like you promised."

"Sorry," Al apologized, laughing sheepishly, "I was busy…"

"Too busy even to _call_?" the younger Tringham pressed, skeptical.

"Well, yeah…anyway, this is Harry, Sirius, my dad, Major Armstrong, Lieutenant Colonel Riza Hawkeye, and General Roy Mustang," Al introduced, successfully sidestepping the matter as the introductions proceeded.

"A pleasure," Roy said as he shook both the brothers' hands last, "But we have a train to catch; any questions can be taken care of on the ride over," he added as Fletcher's mouth opened in inquiry.

"To business then," Russell nodded.

They boarded the train and settled down in an empty car where they'd have more privacy. Though, the only other people on the locomotive were Roy's brigade and a couple dozen gunmen, so there wasn't much need for concern.

"So, Ed," Russell started once they took their seats, "What happened? Where have you been? I mean, the people of Amestris still think you're _dead_!"

"Well…it's a long story," Edward said, hesitant to tell the entire thing.

"Then make it short," Russell replied, crossing his arms stubbornly.

Edward sighed and began, knowing how crazy he sounded as he came to the part about Hogwarts and how he'd studied _magic_ for almost four months.

"Let me see if I've got this," Russell said skeptically as Ed finished, "You went to a magic school and learned _magic_…your father _taught_ magic…and now there's an evil wizard bent on destroying Amestris…"

"That's right," Harry confirmed, continuing as Russell's mouth dropped open for about the hundredth time since the start of the story, "Come on, is magic really _that_ hard to believe?"

"I believe you," Fletcher spoke up, "I mean, it's too specific to make up."

"I know, but _magic_!?" Russell blurted, "It goes against science—against everything we _know_! What about—"

"Equivalent exchange?" Al finished for him, "That's what I thought at first too."

"As did I," Edward added.

"And I," Hoenheim confirmed.

"But the truth is…there's some sort of connection…some sort of similarity between alchemy and magic. I could feel it the first time I used this wand…" Al explained, showing the two brothers the wand he'd received in the Room of Requirement. "The energy flow is exactly the same. That's why magic can exist, I suppose."

"He's right," Hoenheim explained further, "All those hocus pocus stories you boys heard comes from people who don't understand the science behind it. They can't _see_ the energy, so therefore they say it comes from nothing."

"But we all know that's not true," Ed finished, "Anyway, there are more important things to discuss. I'll have to explain the plan quickly…"

As the group stepped off the train an hour later, faces changed dramatically. No more did they chat and laugh like good friends. Now they were silent, their faces like stone as they marched toward Resembool, the drum of two-dozen pairs of military boots sounding behind them.

As they neared the caves, they split up; Russell, Al, Hoenheim, Armstrong, Roy and his men advanced to the front entrance while Ed, Sirius, Harry, and Fletcher circled around to the back where they could make their _own _door.

There were two villagers standing guard as Russell and the others approached. When they saw the intruders they rushed inside to warn their master.

"Stay alert," Roy ordered, "They may try to ambush us."

"It just never ends," Havoc muttered behind him, spitting his cigarette out and grinding it with the heel of his boot as he checked his rifle.

Beside him, Riza did so as well, keeping silent and focused. Armstrong grunted in agreement to Jean's statement and narrowed his eyes in concentration while Feury tried to shake off his fear. Breda stood by the other soldiers, his knuckles white from gripping his gun. Falman held his place next to him, his face completely serious as he released the safety on his gun; whatever fear he had, he hid it well. The other gunmen followed his lead, hitching their weapons higher so it'd be easier to fire on command.

Roy signaled everyone forward, keeping his other hand poised to snap at any moment. Al readied his hands to clap if need be and Russell clutched the piece of chalk in his fingers as they passed the entryway into darkness.

"So, you've finally arrived," Voldemort said maliciously as the cavern lit up with many orbs of floating blue fire, "I've been expecting you, Edward."

"Yeah, it's a real pleasure," Russell spat, playing his part.

"And I see you've brought company," Voldemort continued, ignoring the gibe and instead letting off an evil cackle, "Please, Muggles? You'd have been better off bringing a pack of dogs. At least then your conscience would be spared when I kill every last one of them."

A handful of men behind Russell gulped and shifted their weight in unease. Breda nudged a trembling Feury, silently reassuring him. Roy readied himself for a fight as Armstrong and Riza did the same; the Lieutenant Colonel's guns rose slowly and the Strong Arm Alchemist stepped back into a fighting stance. Al followed his lead, swallowing his fear.

"They won't just stand by and let a madman take over Amestris!!" the false Elric shot back, his bravado real.

Voldemort chuckled again, the deep rumbling echoing off the walls of the cave so that they resounded countless times and eventually faded out.

"Edward…I don't care about this run-down country," the Dark Lord replied in a falsely-sweet voice, raising his hands with his palms up, "All I ever wanted was _you_, Edward."

7 minutes previous; Ed and Co.

Edward skidded to a halt beside the rock wall on the west side of the caves. Here he could make an easy opening and not have to worry about the roof falling in.

"This should bring us to one of the side caves," he announced, hoping his guess was correct.

He needn't have worried; the tunnel he formed brought them to the exact place he'd specified. Sirius waited by the opening while the others proceeded further in, a gun ready in case one of the villagers decided to stop by. As Ed, Harry, and Fletcher rounded the bend, they could hear Voldemort's booming voice.

"Edward…I don't care about this run-down country. All I ever wanted was _you_, Edward."

"Sorry, but I'm not for sale," Ed announced as they arrived.

Before Voldemort could respond, Ed clapped his hands and enclosed the Dark Lord in a dome of stone while Harry stunned the villagers. All twenty men fell unconscious as each were hit with the spell. Hoenheim, from across the room, ran over to help them release the hostages, who were bound and gagged. Seconds later the dome crumbled and Voldemort burst forth, wand raised and face furious. He showed no sympathy for his minions as his snake-like eyes swept past them.

"Run!!" Ed cried to the hostages, pointing to the side room as he stood between them and his foe in a protective stance.

He locked eyes with Winry for a split second, reading the worry in her eyes. "Be careful," she whispered, helping Pinako up from the stone ground. Ed nodded and then broke the connection, refocusing all attention on his enemy.

"So you must be the _real_ Edward," Voldemort growled, his eyes narrow and piercing as they flitted to the boy-who-lived, "Hello Harry."

Harry merely scowled at the Dark Lord and raised his wand higher, letting his adversary know he meant business.

"Very well. If it's a fight you want…" Voldemort grinned, raising his own wand, "_Avada Kedavra_!!"

All four dropped to the ground as Ed raised a rock block. The curse flew over their heads and lodged itself in the wall behind them. Ed heard Mustang yell, "Fire!" and a moment later the sound of gunshots filled the cavern.

Voldemort merely laughed as the bullets came toward him and flicked his wand. They ricocheted back at the brigade, sending a handful of men to the floor. One of the bullets hit Russell in the shoulder. He let out a bellow and dropped to one knee, holding his wounded arm. Fletcher called out to him and would have ran over if not for Ed keeping him in place; had he let the younger Tringham go, he would have been an open target. Armstrong, Roy and Al stepped in front of Russell while Riza tended to the injury.

"You need medical attention," Hawkeye stated, using a piece of torn clothing to keep pressure on the wound.

"Just give me a bandage or something," Russell ordered through gritted teeth.

"Here, I'll take care of it," Hoenheim said, pulling out his wand, "_Ferula_," he muttered, causing a bandage to appear over Russell's bad shoulder.

"Thanks," Russell said as he gained his feet. A dizziness overtook him and he sank again, grimacing sheepishly as he settled back down. "Guess I'll stay here for a minute," he told the man next to him.

"Fall back," Roy ordered suddenly, catching everyone's attention, "All men retreat to the outside of the cave."

The Flame Alchemist then snapped his fingers, causing the air around the Dark Lord to explode. Voldemort avoided the attack at the last minute by disapparating to four feet away. Armstrong followed up the onslaught with stone missiles resembling him, bellowing something about them being a part of the "Armstrong generation of traditional artistic and powerful attacks".

This time the wizard dodged the attack and sent it back to its owner. Ed didn't think it was possible, but Armstrong fell as the missiles struck him in the midsection. The alchemist wheezed on the cave floor, holding the place where he'd been hit.

"Are you alright?" Roy asked, his eyes never straying from his foe.

"Fine," Alex grunted, standing up without so much as a wince, even though he'd been hit with his own power.

Angered, Roy sent out another fireball, larger this time and with more explosive energy than the last. As Voldemort knocked this attack away, Ed sent one of his own before the Dark Lord had a chance to do so himself.

"_Stupefy_!" he bellowed, aiming directly at his target.

"_Finite Incantatem_!!" the dark wizard barked, flicking his wand. Instantly Edward's attack disappeared into the end of his wand. "_Stupefy_!!" he mimicked, sending Edward's spell flying directly at Alphonse with twice the initial force.

"Al!! Look out!!" Ed cried, too late as the blast struck his brother in the chest, sending him crashing into the far wall, unconscious before he hit it.

"You'll pay for that," Ed seethed, glaring at his opponent.

Before he could issue another blast, Hoenheim and Harry both sent different curses toward the Dark Lord; no words were needed to tell they were enraged over Al's takedown as well.

"Teamwork—how very touching," Voldemort sneered as he delivered two of his own attacks after avoiding the others.

A killing curse missed Ed by an inch as he dodged it, only to be hit with a disarming charm in its shadow a moment later. The blast sent his wand flying and knocked him back into a stalagmite behind him. He slid to the ground and raised himself into a crouching position as he caught his breath. His ribs ached where he hit the rock, but his eyes burned with hatred for this evil man.

Meanwhile, Harry, Roy and Armstrong sent out separate attacks as Fletcher ran to Ed's aide. Across the room, Hoenheim propped Al up and swished his wand, muttering, "_Ennervate_," to wake him up.

"I'm fine," Ed told the younger Tringham once the boy reached him. He picked himself up with a bit of a strain, shaking off Fletcher's helping hand. "Look, don't worry about me. Go see how your brother is doing."

Reluctantly the younger Tringham did as he was told, once he'd tossed Ed back his wand.

"Thanks, now hurry," he ordered as he caught the wooden rod easily, sending out a stunning spell to give Fletcher a clear path across the cavern.

Voldemort dodged the attack with a snarl, annoyed by the fact the boy was able to get past him safely. Fletcher rushed to his brother's side, just as Russell decided he'd been incapacitated for far too long.

"There's not much we can do, but I have an idea," he told his brother as he began sketching a transmutation circle into the ground at his feet. Fletcher faced him, hiding his brother's plan from the enemy's suspicious eyes.

Ed stood tall now as he returned to Harry's side. Across the room, Hoenheim helped Al to his feet, who seemed bent on getting a chance to attack the one who had taken him down so easily. Roy stood by his side and next to him, Armstrong, both ready for the second installment.

"Eight against one…" Voldemort contemplated, mocking them, "Five brats and three Alchemists. This would prove to be entertaining if it was going to last longer."

"Don't underestimate us!" Al shouted, stepping back into a fighting stance.

"I'd be concerned if there was anything to underestimate," Voldemort replied sarcastically.

His sneer dropped as the air around him exploded, not giving him enough time to react. His slitted green eyes widened as he rolled away and into a crouching position. He glared at the General as he gained his feet, the edges of his abyss-black robes smoldering.

"You let your guard down," Roy smirked, snapping again.

His attack was sidestepped by his target, the target in question now more attentive than before. Al, seeing his chance to perhaps catch the Dark Lord off guard, clapped his hands and slammed them into the ground, forming a stone being from it. Then he clapped again, releasing a piece of his soul into the being to give it life. As this happened, Armstrong launched a handful of boulders toward Voldemort while Ed and Harry sent a stunning charm and a disarming spell simultaneously.

The Dark Lord managed to dodge Harry's attack and Edward's by inches. The boulders seemed to be going straight toward him until he shouted, "_Obliviate_!!" The spell destroyed the boulders in a bomb-like blast, sending chunks of rocks rocketing toward Al's golem.

Whatever effect Voldemort hoped to inflict was futile, as the being merely soaked them up as a part of itself. Snarling, the Dark Lord ducked a punch from the golem and tried a new approach.

"_Imperio_!!" he bellowed, pointing his wand at the golem.

It stopped attacking him abruptly and then turned around at its new master's command. It sprinted toward Edward and threw a punch, only to be dodged. Across the room, Al held his chest in pain, trying to control the piece of his spirit inside the golem attacking his brother. Because of this, the golem's movements were hesitant and sloppy. Ed had no trouble escaping the blows but the being was so solid it was impossible to issue any of his own.

To avoid the most recent attack, the older Elric sprung into a back flip to gain distance on the stone creature. He whipped out his wand, wasting no time thinking of a spell, _any_ spell to use.

"_Obliviate_!!" he bellowed, his adversary's previous attack being the first thing to pop into his mind.

The golem exploded, chunks of itself flying off in every direction. Edward dodged the ones coming at him, looking up just in time to see his brother fall across the room.

"A-Al—?!" he cried, his eyes contorting first in confusion and then widening in horror as he realized what he'd done. How could he have forgotten a piece of his brother's soul was inside that beast!?!

The golem, now a heap of rubble, seemed to mock him. Twenty feet away, Voldemort laughed cruelly, loosely holding his wand as he grinned maliciously at the older Elric.

"Stupid boy," he spat in distaste, his grin never wavering.

'_I've got to get over there!!_' was all Ed could think as he gained his feet, clenching his teeth in rage. '_And then __I am going to destroy you_,' he thought next as he glared into those mocking, yellow-green eyes. As he did this, Armstrong sent another wave of boulders raining down on the Dark Lord.

Ed took this chance to run over to his brother, who lay on the floor with his eyes clenched shut as he gasped for breath. Hoenheim knelt beside him, holding his son's head in his lap.

"Will he be alright!?" Ed asked anxiously, seeming tortured by the fact he'd harmed his own brother.

"He should be fine. I don't think the piece of his spirit was destroyed. Most likely his mind is trying to find the missing piece, which may explain why he's unconscious," Hoenheim reassured his elder son, though not seeming too reassured himself.

"What if he can't find the missing piece?" Ed asked with a low, hollow tone, hesitant to know the answer.

"I don't think it's wise to dwell on 'what ifs'," his father replied, "Go; you have a battle to win. He'll be alright," he added as an afterthought.

Edward faced his adversary again, this time his hatred and fury consuming. No longer did he intend to fight from a distance; from then on he was all in.

"Seems I've struck a nerve," the Dark Lord stated, his face twisted in a criminal sneer.

Edward said nothing in response and merely glared at the wizard in front of him. Without breaking eye contact, he clapped his hands and slid his left over his right arm, transforming it into a blade.

"Ed!! Are you _insane_!?" Harry yelled from across the room as the Fullmetal Alchemist charged at the enemy, driven purely by his wrath.

Had the elder Elric thought about his new course of action, he would have undoubtedly decided against it, because of the fact he was now an open target for the Dark Lord.

"_Expelliarmus_!!" Harry yelled, creating enough of a distraction to divert Voldemort's attention so that he was unable to issue an attack at Ed.

A fortunate moment of confusion overtook the Dark Lord; it seemed he was more concerned with the alchemist running toward him than the spell Harry had cast. As a result, he managed to dodge Edward's horizontal slash but received the full blow of the disarming spell.

The force threw him back into the wall and left him dazed, though he somehow kept a hold on his wand. On the opposite side of the cavern, the Tringham brothers saw the opening they needed to deliver their attack. Both pressed their hands to the stone where the transmutation circle was etched and poured their power into it.

The Dark Lord barely had time to wonder what the blue light coming from them was before thick vines protruded from the ceiling above him and wrapped around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides and squeezing the air from his lungs. Voldemort chuckled from his position on the ground, catching his opponents with confusion.

"Is that the best you've got?" he growled, casting a narrow and merciless gaze to each individual.

Then they closed as Voldemort concentrated his power; Ed and the others had no time to react before the bonds restraining their adversary broke apart and fell limp to the ground.

The Dark Lord stood anew, all cockiness gone as he raised his wand. His opponents now had him confined against the wall where he'd fallen and stood shoulder to shoulder, their faces stoic in concentration.

Voldemort glanced behind him, noting his close proximity with the stone barrier. Then he turned back to his enemies and smirked.

"A pointless strategy," he stated, disapparating.

He reassembled himself behind them, so that he was in the middle of the cavern and now _they_ were the ones trapped. His unnerving smirk remained; he knew none of them were able to apparate.

"Now to end this," Voldemort decided, raising his wand, "_Avada Kedavra_!!"

Edward was the only one to react; he clapped his hands and jumped in front of the killing curse that was on its way to Harry. He had split seconds to think of a plan of action as he thrust his hands in front of him.

A blue shield appeared just as the curse was centimeters away. The Fullmetal Alchemist squeezed his eyes shut in concentration and apprehension as it hit, seriously hoping the shield would hold.

The emerald blast collided with the sapphire barrier and rebounded, shooting back to its issuer. Voldemort had no time to react as it hit him in the chest. Then the Dark Lord fell, quite ironically to his own curse for the second time. But instead of his body landing coldly on the stone floor like Lieutenant Bloch, it burst apart in a wretched shriek, leaving no trace it had ever existed.

A/n- soo…how was the battle scene? Do tell. An announcement for any of you out there that read/watches Death Note: I started a new fic on this manga/anime. Check it out if you're a fan. (and to all of you who haven't read Death Note, … GO READ IT OR I WILL USE THE DEATH NOTE TO TRACK YOU DOWN AND KILL YOU!!! Eheh, just kidding people. Have a nice day. –bows-)


	30. Aftermath

A/n- hey guys, sorry it's been so long. But, biology is over!! WHOOO!!! I just had a major presentation (which I did so bad on it's funny) but the good news is that I never have to think about bio again!! And to that effect, (now that I have some time and before finals start T.T ) here's the long-awaited chapter!!!

Chapter 30- Aftermath

Edward dropped his hands, an immense exhaustion and relief filling him at the same time. Behind him, Harry released the breath he'd been holding. Roy slipped his hands into his pockets and relaxed his tense stance while Russell openly slumped in fatigue, gripping his wounded arm.

"At long last," Hoenheim sighed after a moment, "It's over."

"For now, at least," Harry added.

"What do you mean?" Ed asked, his brow furrowing as he wondered how Harry could be so negative after such a spectacular victory.

"It's just…it's a feeling I've got. I don't think Voldemort is dead," Harry replied, shrugging, "I dunno. Maybe I'm wrong. That's what I'm hoping anyway, but, the thing is…well, the prophecy hasn't come true."

"I thought you didn't believe in that," Ed recalled.

"I dunno," Harry repeated, "It's just a feeling."

"Even so, he won't be bothering us for a while, I'm sure," Roy broke in.

"Right," Ed agreed with a relieved nod; then his eyes widened suddenly in horror as he remembered his brother, "Alphonse!!"

The older Elric bolted to the other side of the cavern where Al was still lying, unconscious. His brow was feverishly hot and his flesh was pasty and white; the state of him made Edward's skin crawl in worry.

"What have I done?" he asked himself in a whisper, his brow ladened with worry and guilt. He snapped out of his daze and picked up his younger brother, a new determination taking hold of his fright. "Let's go," he told the rest of the group, leading the way to outside the caves. They followed, Fletcher supporting his brother who struggled to keep up. At long last Armstrong picked the elder Tringham up, much to his embarrassment.

"Edward! Oh my god, Al!!" Winry exclaimed, running to meet them as they finally emerged from the caves, "Is he going to be alright? What happened!?" she demanded, casting worried eyes over Al's still body and then the rest of the wounded.

"I'll tell you when we get him to a bed," Ed replied firmly; he would say no more on the matter and merely walked past the others, making his way as quickly as possible toward the Rockbell household. Pinako patted Winry's arm, silently telling her deeply offended granddaughter to be patient.

Edward set his brother on the bed in one of the guest rooms and drew back with a weary sigh. He wiped his brow from the strain, the trek having been a good half-mile. His brother wasn't heavy, but even a small amount of weight seemed heavier when carried for a long time; Ed was not exempt from this, even for one as physically fit as he was. He straightened and turned to the crowd of worried and expecting friends behind him. All were there except Roy and Armstrong, who had left to oversee their soldiers.

"Can someone call a doctor?" Ed asked in a worn, tired voice; the events of the day were catching up to him and yet he clung desperately to the last sparks of awareness he had left in order to see his brother was taken care of.

"Of course," Pinako answered, rushing out of the room to fetch what was asked for.

"Will someone please explain _what is going on_!? Because I really would like to know!" Winry shouted suddenly, worry layered in her voice as she sighed and continued softer than before, "Ed, you promised you'd tell me."

"Al transferred a piece of his soul to a stone golem he made. But Voldemort…he used a spell to control the golem, so that it attacked me and not him. I…I destroyed it without realizing the consequences."

Edward finished, his distraught and distant eyes having never lifted from his brother's face. It was obvious to anyone watching, Winry included, that his brother's state was eating him up inside, even more so because he believed it was his fault.

"Ed, you can't blame yourself," Winry consoled, moving forward to place a hand on his shoulder. She couldn't see his face with his back to her, but she could imagine it was filled with pain.

"Is…is the doctor here yet?" he asked weakly, seeming to ignore her; it was either that, or he disagreed with what she told him.

"Edward…I don't think a doctor will help him," Hoenheim said gently, not wanting to upset his son further.

"I know, but…damnit, there must be something I can do!!" Edward exclaimed suddenly, knocking Winry's hand away as he stumbled back, "There must be something alchemy can do to help him! O-or magic; magic could definitely help! All we need to do is bring him back to Hogwarts and Madame Pomfrey will take care of him!"

"Ed, do you really think it's wise to cross the Gate when he's in this condition? Who _knows_ what could happen. We might not even have another _chance_. We could have gotten through this time on luck alone!" Harry intervened, stepping forward to grip his friend's upper arm tightly and shake it to awaken his rationality.

"The only person who can find the missing piece of his soul is him," Hoenheim said softly.

"There is nothing we can do but wait," Winry reinforced.

Edward turned to glare at her steadily, a frightening and somewhat crazy determination in his eyes that blended with his mounting exhaustion in an unsightly manner.

"_I_ refuse to believe that," he declared, yanking his arm from Harry's grasp so that he could march past them. He paused at the doorway and turned his head to look at his brother's still body. "I will find a way to help you," he promised, his voice now a delicate whisper, "if it's the last thing I do."

Winry stood speechless, staring at the doorframe where Edward had been previously. She decided to follow him and began to advance toward that endeavor, but found herself restrained by a blond teen with a limp, bloody arm.

"Let him go," Russell said gently, putting on a half smile to convince her, "If it were me, I wouldn't be able to sit and wait either."

Winry sighed, knowing he was right and nodded to show this. _'I want to help him too,'_ she admitted to herself, though she knew she couldn't do anything worthwhile. Looking back to Russell's bloody arm, she decided to help in a different way.

"Let's get you cleaned up," she said, leading Russell to the couch where she deposited him to fetch some towels. _'At least the doctor will have something to do,'_ she mused.

A/n- so the big battle scene is over. I got mixed feelings on it but most said it was good and I can't be more relieved!! .0 those things are SO hard to write. But does anyone notice how I am STILL torturing Ed?? geez, what's wrong with me…


	31. Kokoro No Renkinjutsushi

A/n- Konichi wa minne!!! It's summer and I'm on vacation (though the internet here sucks) and so this time I have no excuse for why it's taken me over a week to update, other than I am a perfectionist by nature and want this fic to be absolutely perfect. Someone replied and said I had used the wrong spell for destroying; um…sumimasen!!! (bows repeatedly) that was my bad. I intended on saying 'Obliterate' not 'Obliviate' and yes I did know that was the spell for erasing minds I just…bad typo. Baaad typo. So sorry. (headdesks) And I will fix it soon. For now, enjoy!!

Chapter 31- Kokoro no Renkinjutsushi

Edward proceeded to hole himself up in Alphonse's study; he was not surprised to find books on soul attachments hiding in many of the stacks littered throughout the room. These were his starting points, for his goal was straightforward; he had to find a way to call back the missing piece of his brother's soul. It was an arduous mission, but one he had to accomplish nonetheless.

Several hours had passed without so much as a pause to stretch his stiffening limbs. The pile of books to read grew steadily shorter as the stack he'd analyzed grew to a point where it teetered precariously. He was so absorbed in his research that he didn't notice Winry's soft footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Ed? How are you doing?" she asked, pausing for an answer that didn't come, "Auntie made some stew if you want a—"

"Is there any change?" Ed interrupted her, not bothering to look up from his book; he was still slightly perturbed with her for giving up so easily.

"Wh—no, no change," Winry answered quickly, "Why don't you come have something to eat, Edward?"

"Sorry Winry, but I have to keep looking. If you don't mind…unless there is a change in his condition, can you please let me be?" Edward sighed, knowing his words sounded harsher than he intended. He continued in a sincere approach. "To be honest, I don't think we have that much time; according to this book, the body begins to decompose when the entire soul isn't present, almost like a roof caving in when a support beam is ripped away."

"Yes, alright," Winry agreed, making her way back to the stairs. She paused at the bottom step, visibly bothered by Edward's words and spoke over her shoulder, "I'll let you know if anything changes."

Edward threw the last book down in disgust, momentarily allowing himself to feel defeated. There were still books left, but they were all on typical alchemy and not anything worthwhile; he knew just by reading the titles that they held no promise. He let out a long sigh and stood to stretch his aching limbs. How much time had passed he wasn't sure, but he felt exhausted. When was the last time he slept? He couldn't remember. It had been the night before the battle with Voldemort…right? He wondered how many days had passed since then, because to him it seemed like weeks; he was definitely clinically insane at this point in time. His thoughts were muddled now that he had nothing to concentrate on.

He opted to get some long deserved sleep and curled up on the bunk in the corner; apparently Winry had lugged Al's bed downstairs to try and get him to rest now and then when his brother was searching for a way across the Gate. After some rest, perhaps the information Ed had learned would spark some course of action in his mind; it was a given that he wasn't accomplishing anything in his present state. Even with that in mind, he still felt guilty about wasting time sleeping when he could be searching for a solution.

What he had could not be called sleep, for his dreams were invaded by his brother's calamity. The battle with Voldemort and the golem kept replaying in his mind: the explosion, Al's widening eyes as he clutched his chest before he fell to the cold stone beneath him, and his sandy-brown hair draping over his tightly closed lids. He caught glimpses of his brother's ghostly, sweat-slicken face, and then time wound backward to when he was healthy and smiling. Ed rolled and flailed in his nightmares, trying to escape the heartache they held.

Suddenly they stopped and he was unconsciously aware that his mind was quiet for once. Thoughts ran through his mind; most were lines from the books he'd read. The knowledge he'd learned flitted in and out of his grasp as his sleeping self pieced them together in random disorder.

Then his mindscape changed again as he landed into another dream, though it was different from the others. He was walking in a plane of midnight blue, surrounded by this color on all sides of his being. There was a pale blue light a long distance away and this was what he walked toward. It seemed hundreds of miles passed until the light appeared to be closer, but his dream self felt no fatigue at all. Instead he felt a stronger drive toward it, as if it had a magnetic pull on him.

Time lengthened and finally he was there, standing in front of a beautiful blue orb that shone with its own light, like a brilliant blue star. It pulsed every second or so, as if it was alive, as if it had a heartbeat. Ed reached for it, knowing somehow that this orb of light held the answers to all his questions.

A spark of energy shot through him as his fingers brushed the surface of the orb. It jolted him awake and his eyelids fluttered open immediately, only to narrow in confusion. He knew he was awake because he was lying on Al's bed—he could feel the sweaty sheets beneath him—but the orb remained, floating in front of him, just inches from his face. He had no idea what was going on, for this occurrence wasn't scientific in the least, but somehow he didn't care at the moment; the orb was still as compelling as it had been in the dream.

He untangled his arm from the sheets carefully, not wanting to scare it away. The orb stayed still, oscillating between dimmer and brighter radiance as it rested calmly on the air beneath it. Ed touched it gently with the tips of his fingers, attracted to it like he had been in his dream. The orb quivered slightly and then pulsed again, brighter than before; if Ed didn't know any better, he would say it was…happy, content. The place where his fingers had met the light tingled with a gentle warmth; it was unlike anything he had ever experienced and his mouth hung open in awe.

Suddenly the orb retreated from him and sped away to the far side of the room where it stopped, pulsing stronger than before as if excited by something. By this time Edward disregarded every scientific fact in his mind and stood to follow it; he still couldn't explain to himself why this blue ball of light was so fascinating, other than the fact it was scientifically impossible, that is. He found himself yearning to understand it, to see how it worked, how it existed.

As he drew closer, the orb moved a bit farther away. Ed stopped, wondering if it was perhaps scared of him. He advanced slower this time, cautiously, trying not to seem like he was moving. Apparently the orb grew annoyed with this, for it quivered suddenly and then flew to make several twirling circles around him, barely an inch from colliding with his flesh. _'Alright, so it's not afraid,'_ Edward thought, _'If that's the case then it must want me to…follow it.'_ The idea was ridiculous, but what else was he to believe?

Again the orb recoiled, this time moving all the way to the back wall and toward the right corner of the bookshelf. Puzzled, Ed noticed there was a space between the bookcase and the wall, just big enough, perhaps, to harbor…a small tome. Drawing his attention away from the orb, he slipped his fingers into the space and felt around until he found what he was searching blindly for, though he didn't understand yet how he knew it would be there. As he pulled back his hand he brought with it a small leather journal; it was the same research journal Ed had sent his brother from across the Gate.

He smiled slightly, as he had wondered where his journal had ended up. However, this was not what he was hoping to retrieve and was annoyed he'd gotten his hopes up; what was he expecting, a written solution from Alphonse himself? He glanced back at the orb and his smile faded to one more wistful than happy.

"Thanks," he said, wondering why he was now talking to it, "But this doesn't help me, not that I expect you to understand."

Ed stood to place his journal on Al's desk. He all but collapsed in the chair by it and studied the glowing sphere with an unplaced longing. He shook his head and turned away, trying to figure out what was going on.

"I must be going insane," he said, laughing, "I mean, this is really pathetic."

The orb quivered again as he glanced back at it; this seemed to be its way of portraying a want to say something it couldn't without words. A second later it was in front of him, startling him so much he stumbled out of his chair and knocked the journal off the desk in the process, where it landed open on the floor. The orb sped toward it and stopped above it abruptly, bouncing and seeming excited. For a moment Ed was concerned it was going to harm the leather volume.

Instead the sphere spun rapidly above the book, causing the pages to turn from the wind. Then it stopped abruptly and floated over the pages, waiting for Edward's next move. Confused, Edward moved closer; he saw immediately that the page he was looking at was not covered in his handwriting. Driven by curiosity and a growing suspicion he snatched up the diary and skimmed its contents.

"Could it really be that easy?" he said in disbelief as he finished reading; he didn't trust what it said was true at first so he proceeded to read it three more times.

At long last Edward looked up from the page to gape at the blue globe in front of him. It spun slowly as it hovered about a foot from the ground. Realization hit Ed suddenly like a brick and he stumbled back, dumbfounded that he hadn't thought of this before.

"Al?" he voiced hesitantly, still to bewildered to believe his assumption.

The ball of light bounced twice in a repeated up-down motion, as if nodding. Edward glanced down at the journal again and then back to the missing piece of his brother's soul.

"But, why haven't you…" he started to ask, then understanding, "You can't return by yourself, can you? You need my help."

Again, the orb nodded in its peculiar way. It bounced faster now, excited it had finally accomplished its goal.

A/n- so, did anyone see _that_ coming!? Eh?? I am proud to say I am proud of this random brain spark that brought about this turn of events. It's almost done, minne; I hope you stick around for the grand finale, next!!!


	32. After Everything Else

9

A/n- this is it, minne, the last chapter!! ENJOY!!!

Chapter 32- After Everything Else

Edward stood in front of Al's still body, the blue sphere floating calmly beside him. It was amazing how in the dark it seemed as if his brother was merely sleeping, though it was an induced sleep, an unnatural sleep.

"Are you sure this will work?" Edward asked his brother's spirit, though his eyes never left the boy in front of him; this time the orb did not bounce, in its unique way of nodding, but quivered nervously instead.

"I'd like to make sure it'll work first," Ed admitted, "Your theory makes sense, but that's all it is. A soul is something unpredictable. Something could go wrong and then…then what would happen?"

Edward's voice receded to a mere whisper as this horrid thought arose. The orb dimmed, feeling the sadness encompassing its companion. It brightened a moment later, now becoming jittery. It shuddered violently and began twirling around Ed, radiating the most brilliant sapphire light yet. It stopped suddenly and shuddered again, bouncing lightly on the cushion of air beneath it. It seemed anxious, disturbed, _desperate_.

"You're running out of time," Ed realized; his eyes widened in panic, then narrowed almost immediately in determination as he turned back to his brother's body. "Then there's no choice; it's now or never."

Now Edward's eyes darkened as he clapped his hands and transmuted his automail arm into a sword, the slightest hesitation between the two actions, making sure the point was immensely sharp. This way, the cut would be easy and clean. He paused a moment to brush Al's hair back from his forehead, readying himself for what he was about to do. It was simple in theory, but perhaps that was what scared him the most. Perhaps this foreboding came from the thought that it was just _too easy_, when nothing had ever been so before. Yet now, when everything seemed to matter _so much more_, the solution was a little blood and some alchemy; _so very simple_.

He pressed his finger to the sword's edge and slid it across the blade. A droplet of blood appeared and trickled down his finger as if it were a wayward stream, not at all like a piece of his life force. Carefully, he pressed the bleeding finger to his brother's head and drew on it a circle. As he filled in the details of the transmutation circle, the memories from when he had used it last could not help but swirl behind his focused eyes. He remembered screaming with frightful, childish haste: _'My leg, my arms, my heart. I'll give them to you; whatever you want. Just give him back! He's my brother!!!'_

He had succeeded then, so perhaps now he would as well. If anything, the soul seal should be easier this time, since he was binding it to its host and not some foreign material. But would there be equivalent exchange like last time? Edward brushed this thought aside as he returned his arm to normal and proceeded to pour his energy into the circle, telling himself it didn't matter even though it scared him to death. What more had he to lose but the one in front of him anyway? The fact this being held the most value in his life made the question cruelly ironic.

As the light from the transmutation circle grew brighter, Al's spirit hovered above its body, quivering in excitement. Then there was a loud crack and the light from the circle broke free from the space above Al's head in a confined explosion. A long, blue tendril shot out and wrapped itself around the missing spirit, absorbing it into the circle.

"Ed?" a quiet voice uttered. The alchemist, too concentrated on his brother didn't hear it, or notice as Winry advanced to the doorway, woken by the noise. "Edward, what are you _doing_!?!" she cried out as her eyes lighted on the blood and transmutation circle, where the last of the blue light was disappearing into Al's forehead.

She dashed into the room, planning to push Ed away and save her friend, but the alchemist grabbed her first, holding her at bay. She struggled in his arms but was no match for the hard training he had endured with Izumi as his teacher, even with the muscles she had gained from her mechanic work. In time she ceased all movements and watched the unconscious boy as Ed did; he said nothing to her, his mind completely consumed by his brother.

Gradually, the color flowed back into Al's cheeks and the ghostly white skin receded into a light pink. Edward let go of Winry now and gasped, elated as his brother drew a halting breath. Al held it, as if scared to lose himself if he let it go, and then slowly exhaled, his eyelids tightening. Finally they fluttered open.

"Brother," Al whimpered, his eyes filling with tears. He sat up and threw his arms around Ed, burying his face into his brother's jacket. Ed held him tightly, despite his surprise by the sudden display of affection. As if reading his mind, Al pulled away and explained.

"I almost didn't make it," he admitted, continuing as his brother's eyes widened in horror at the thought, "It wasn't that you weren't fast enough—I had no idea how to get you to perform the transmutation without being able to communicate directly."

The stifling and freezing fright that had lodged itself in Edward's chest loosened and he let it go with a relieved sigh. He realized it didn't _matter_ what had almost happened.

"Good thing for us that I'm so smart," he jested, smiling with sincerity.

"It's good to have you back again," Winry said, smiling as well.

Thinking back on the most recent bizarre occurrence, a confused visage suddenly crossed Ed's face.

"I don't understand…" he commented, "How were you able to enter my dream like that?"

"I learned a lot about souls that I didn't know before I lost a piece of mine," Al explained, "like how they consist of completely free energy. They can go anywhere, even dreams, which we cannot define scientifically as of yet."

"Completely free energy…"Ed repeated, a sudden flicker of knowledge catching fire, "That means…the reason human transmutation doesn't work is because we haven't learned to harness free energy, or rather, free energy _can't_ be controlled!"

Al nodded, a grin adorning his face, for he was glad his brother had come to the same conclusion he had. Winry merely blinked, confusion spreading across her face.

"Alchemist freaks…" she muttered, crossing her arms, "Can't be conscious for more than a minute without jabbering on about alchemy."

Al laughed wholeheartedly and hugged his friend, replying, "I love you too, Winry," in her ear. Laughter erupted again at the sight of her blushing as he pulled away.

Three days passed in which not all that much happened. Edward caught up on some well-deserved rest while Al, Fletcher, and Winry kept a very agitated Russell company. The doctor had ordered him bedridden for the next couple of days, much to the elder Tringham's annoyance, because of the large volume of blood he had lost and the extent of his injury. When finally the doctor said it was alright for him to move about, he all but jumped out of bed and refused to rest any more.

When finally Edward awoke, he found his friends and brother outside, helping to reconstruct the village. It took the better half of the week, but at last everyone in the village had a home. Harry stayed until then, helping with the repairs alongside Edward, Alphonse, Hoenheim, Armstrong, and the rest of the State Alchemists Roy had insisted upon to rebuild the small town. And at last it was finished; an outsider would never know what had happened just a few short days ago.

However, even though the repairs were done and Roy and the other alchemists had left, Harry tarried for a few more days before the thought of leaving came into his mind. He found he didn't really want to leave, even as he knew he didn't want to stay either. It was more the knowledge of losing newly found friends that prolonged his stay and the fact he missed his old ones that brought it to an end. The other part of it was _how_ to get back too.

Now he was in the Rockbell's yard with Ed and Al, waiting patiently for the right time to bring up the topic that recently plagued his mind. Ed and Al were sparring at the moment, a practice that at first had seemed strange to Harry, but one that was now a daily routine. After many punches, kicks, and blocks, they finished, sweaty and elated.

"I think I won that time," Al commented as they sat down next to the boy-who-lived.

"Yeah right," Ed scoffed, "I only stopped because you wouldn't; you'd have fought 'til you were blue in the face if I hadn't."

"Sure," Al replied sarcastically; it was in fact a draw, as they were both equal matches for each other.

There was silence for a few minutes while Harry debated on declaring his decision. When at last his uncertainty bubbled to a point where it overflowed, he blurted it out, disrupting the peaceful air.

"I'm going home."

"What?" Ed replied, surprised by the suddenness of the statement.

"I mean, I have to. I can't stay here forever," Harry continued, uncomfortable with the conversation already, "I just don't know how; otherwise I'd be gone by now."

Al nodded, understanding his friend's motives; there were people waiting for him back in his own world. The younger Elric glanced to his brother, sensing the drop in Ed's mood. Edward had turned his face away and now stared at a seemingly interesting blade of grass, avoiding his brother's knowing stare.

"He doesn't want you to leave," Al stated, turning back to Harry. The young wizard nodded, feeling guilty for whatever reason.

At that moment, Sirius walked over, wondering how his godchild was doing, the thought of leaving on his mind as well. He slowed as he saw the melancholy looks everyone wore and guessed the cause.

"Is it time?" he asked. Harry nodded silently; his godfather had been getting antsy as well, wanting to return to his home world.

Edward stood suddenly, motioning for them to follow as he walked toward the house, the day suddenly seeming not so bright. Only when they were in the Rockbell's basement and among the shelves of alchemy books did he stop and address Harry.

"I want to show you something before you leave," he said, striding to the corner of the room and to the small space between the shelf and the wall. He reached into the crack and retrieved the Philosopher's Stone, momentarily awed by its luster. Both Sirius and Harry glanced curiously at Al, as if asking, 'what is he doing?'

"There is a way to recharge the Stone," Al stated before Ed got a chance to explain. The older Elric shot him a quizzical glance and he shrugged in reply. Then Ed remembered the passage he'd written about in the journal and understood where the knowledge had come from.

"It's true," Ed confirmed, placing the stone on the floor, "I explained before that the Stone is a magical battery and like all batteries, it can be replenished. All you do is direct your magical energy into it with a simple spell, like _Expelliarmus_, just like we used to create it."

Harry nodded, intrigued, for a glimmer of hope struck suddenly in his mind. This was not goodbye forever then! Seeing the flicker in his eyes, Sirius spoke up.

"That doesn't mean you can walk through the Veil anytime you like," he warned; Ed nodded in agreement and continued.

"There's still the risk that something will go wrong," he said.

"He's only telling you this so you can get home, and so you can get back in an absolute emergency," Al explained further. He did not know where the understanding came from, but the look in Ed's eyes deemed it to be true.

"He's right," Ed admitted, yielding to his brother's insightfulness for now, "In case anything happens and you need help."

"I think I can handle it," Harry told him, casting the alchemist a halfhearted smile.

The wizard watched as Ed demonstrated how to recharge the Stone. When he was done, Harry took it from him slowly, as if prolonging the moment to come.

"I guess this is goodbye," he said.

"Hopefully," Edward said, then clarifying, "As much as I'd like a visit every now and then, saving the world more than once isn't really my thing."

"You did alright," Harry replied, "For a beginner."

The alchemist grinned and held out his hand. Harry grasped it, remembering a time when the hardness of it had puzzled him; now it was normal. He shook Al's next, smiling down at the younger Elric.

"Don't let him get in too much trouble," he said.

"I won't," Al replied with a grin.

Edward rolled his eyes and then knelt to the ground, clapping his hands and pressing them to the wood floor. An array appeared and Ed remembered the last time he saw it, on the stomach of a wailing infant. Then he pressed his hands to the transmutation circle and banished the thought as he found the Gate inside himself. When he opened his eyes it was there in front of him, just as mysterious and foreboding as it had been the first time he'd seen it. Before Sirius and Harry could advance toward it, he caught the wizard's attention, a hesitating question on his tongue.

"Do you think…" he started, stopping as he realized how ridiculous he sounded.

"Yeah?" Harry prompted, however the alchemist hesitated still.

"Will you take care of his cat?" Al asked for him, smiling at the look of wonder on his brother's face. Again, the knowledge had sprung up suddenly, and he had blurted it out, knowing it was true.

"Of course," Harry replied with his smile broadening, "I'd be glad to."

With that said, he clutched the Philosopher's Stone in his hand tightly and stepped through the Gate as it opened in front of him, Sirius's hand in his other. As the door closed the portal dissolved rapidly into mist, until finally it disappeared.

Afterward, Ed and Al returned outside to sit on the front step, a lonely feeling about them from the loss of their friend. This lifted, however, when Russell and Fletcher rounded the corner from the other side of the house. Russell's arm was still injured, but the way he was swinging it in harmony with the other as he walked, one would never know.

"Where's Harry?" Russell asked for conversation sake, seeing the lethargic attitudes of his friends.

"He left," Edward stated, looking up at the two surprised faces in front of him.

"Left?" Fletcher echoed, now understanding the somber air.

"You'll be leaving soon as well, won't you?" Al asked, lowering his eyes; the thought of losing more friends, even though it really couldn't be called that, weighted heavy on his spirit.

"Well…" Fletcher began, looking to his brother for a sort of permission to cheer up the two.

"Actually, we're thinking of staying in Risembool," Russell declared.

"Are you serious!?" Al blurted, his dampened mood lifted. Fletcher beamed back at him and nodded.

"I wanted to tell you sooner, but brother wanted to think it through first," he chimed.

"Then you've decided?" Edward asked, intrigued and satisfied at the same time.

"It's not like we have much waiting for us back in Xenotime anyway," Russell shrugged, grinning as well, "I'd much rather be bothering you."

"Gee, thanks," Ed replied sarcastically, while the two younger brothers chuckled at their game. Then the alchemist smiled contently. "Maybe this place will start to feel like home again."

"You mean it doesn't feel that way now?" Fletcher asked, confused; Al shook his head.

"After what happened here, after we burned our house down, it hasn't really felt like home," he explained. Edward nodded, seeming lost within his memories.

Later that night, after dinner, the Elric brothers found themselves on the porch again, watching the sun sink into the hills. Edward watched the glowing red orb with a furrowed brow, and not because of its brilliance.

"They'll be okay," Al assured him, knowing his brother was thinking of Harry and Sirius and whether they made it back okay, "But if you want, you _could_ always scry it."

"I know," Edward replied, shooting his brother a probing stare, "You know, you have to stop doing that."

"Doing what?" Al asked, confused.

"Reading my mind. Since when are you psychic?"

"I'm not…I don't know…I think…ever since I entered your dream I think I can…understand you better," Al explained in broken words, not seeming to understand them himself, "Sometimes it seems like I can just tell what you're thinking."

"It's kind of unnerving," Ed commented with a wayward grin.

He ruffled his brother's hair the way he used to when he was just a kid and returned to watching the sun set. After a moment, Al spoke again.

"What will we do now?" he asked, thoughtful, "There's no more search. We have nothing to do for once."

"Dad mentioned rebuilding the family home," Ed replied.

"I know, but after that, then what?"

The elder Elric was silent a moment as he looked to the sky, as if reading his answer from the clouds.

"I was thinking of starting an Alchemy Academy," he said at last.

"Really?" Al said, pondering the idea, "That would be…interesting."

"I think it would be," Ed agreed.

As the last rays of the setting sun disappeared into the land, the two brothers stayed sitting, side by side, reunited at last and without any worry to mull over or any agenda needing doing. There was finally peace, a harmony between them and the world and that of Equivalent Exchange.

The End

A/n- AHHH I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S OVER!!!! This fic has been going on for more than a year and now that it's over…I seriously have no idea what to do. But I will say…every single time I read the last paragraph I smile like an idiot because I think 'I've accomplished something I started a year ago. And it's 152 pages long!!!' CHA!!! I want to thank all of you, all my reviewers, the friends I've made with this, the criticism and opinions and…everything. Seriously, without you guys, I doubt it would have come out this good. As for a sequal, the chances are very, very, very, unlikely. I know most of you want to know about Ed's academy, but I have other stories going, stories I can actually get published. This was my legacy. Now it's done. SAYONARA MINNE!!! ARIGATO GOZAIMASU!!!!


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